Dream Knight
by BlackCapricornDay
Summary: A Batman story set in a mythical world.
1. Superunknown

**This is the first chapter of my first attempt at a fanfic of any kind! I'm hoping to maintain the motivation to finish it… This one features Catwoman!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters.**

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 1: Superunknown**

_All things that appear are manifestations of mind._

_The surrounding environment which appears to be inanimate, that too is mind._

_The sentient life-forms which appear as the six classes of living beings, they too are mind…_

_There are no appearances at all apart from the mind._

_- _ "The Introduction to Awareness: Natural Liberation through Naked Perception,"

_The Tibetan Book of the Dead_

"They are a superstitious and cowardly lot," a familiar voice says, "easily manipulated by fear."

_Alfred, _he thinks. _Alfred is here. I know Alfred. _

"It is fear that keeps them here. They are afraid of what lies beyond the borders of what they know and understand."

He is awash in a sea of colour and indistinct shapes. Gradually, he becomes aware of direction and space. He listens to Alfred's voice, reaches out for him – an anchor, an island in a sea of sickly greens and purples. A distant, maniacal laughter seems to echo in his mind.

"They fear you," Alfred continues methodically, "because you represent the unknown. They fear that you will shatter the order they have forged for themselves, such as it is."

Shapes begin to coalesce around him. The nauseating colours give way to sedate browns and greys, which give way to Alfred standing over him. He becomes aware of his body. He is in a bed in a small cabin.

"Alfred," he says weakly.

Alfred starts, looks down at him. "You… you're awake. You are awake!"

The laughter subsides. He tries to move his hands. They are stiff, sluggish, as though they were buried in sand.

"Where am I?" If his body feels buried in sand, he thinks, his mind is in mud. Thoughts come slowly, and his memory is slow to return.

"Arkham," Alfred says. "You are in Arkham."

The word makes him uneasy, but he cannot recall why. He asks, "What is Arkham?"

A look of perplexity crosses Alfred's face. "Arkham is a village on the island of Gotham. It is south of Gotham City, near the sea." He narrows his eyes. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Surprised, he says, "It's me, Alfred!" He pauses, searches, but cannot find a name. "It's me. You know me."

"No, sir, I do not believe I do. I found you on the side of the road, but no one here knows who you are." He pauses. "And yet, there is something very familiar about you. How might I know you?"

He sits up. Memories are not forthcoming. They are lost, left behind in the green and purple sea. "I don't know, Alfred. I think… I think I've lost my memory. What happened to me?"

Alfred helps him stand. "I am not sure. As I said, you were on the side of the road that leads to the sea. I assumed you had been injured by bandits, since there is a very active band of them around here. But I have been trained in medicine, and you do not seem to have any injuries. You had been in a coma for several days, at least, but I cannot begin to guess why."

He walks gingerly at first, with Alfred's help, but soon his motor functions return to him. He paces around the cabin to rid himself of the stiffness, his mind trying furiously, but vainly, to retrieve any clues concerning his identity. "Did I have anything on me that would give any indication?"

"No, sir. In fact, you were completely naked. I provided you with the clothes you are wearing now." He glances down at the nondescript black tunic he is wearing. It is similar to the tunic Alfred is wearing, but larger, fitting a more robust frame.

"Strange," he says.

"Quite," Alfred replies. "Your appearance is very much a mystery. Indeed, I had hoped that you would be able to provide some answers once you awoke. The villagers have been calling you the Unknown Man."

He smiles wryly. "Appropriate enough."

Alfred looks out the window at the evening sky. "The sheriff asked to be alerted when you came to. It is getting late; I should go. Do you fancy a walk, sir?"

He nods. "Maybe it will jog my memory."

Somewhere, in a dark corner of his mind, there is gleeful, evil laughter. Automatically, he recites a mantra, then focuses on Alfred, the cabin door, and the world beyond.

***

The world moves in and out of focus before his eyes. He is in a small village full of simple houses and villagers with undefined faces. They wander aimlessly back and forth in the dying light. Some stare at him with blank expressions, while others appear oblivious to their surroundings. All around the village there is a wall made of upright pointed logs. Beyond the wall is trees, but the shapes and colours do not match, and they blend to a vague smear in the distance. There is fear in the air, and he can sense it. It is a familiar sensation, almost comforting to him, but he does not know why.

He asks Alfred about himself, and as they walk, Alfred explains, "Once, not long ago, there were a good king and queen who were rulers of this land. They lived in a palace overlooking Gotham City, and their reign was a time of peace and justice. I was their servant for many years. But then, one day, they were murdered by the League of Shadows, a ruthless guild of assassins. Their leader usurped the throne, becoming the Shadow King, and he has ruled this land with an iron fist ever since. I was on an errand when this took place, and I have lived here in hiding ever since."

The Unknown Man listens. The story has a familiar ring to it. A deep sadness arises from within him, but he does not know the source. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says. Then something compels him to ask, "What were their names?"

Alfred says softly, "Thomas and Martha."

The despair rises into his throat, suffocating him. "Om mani padme hum," he recites silently to himself.

Alfred has seen his anxiety and asks, "Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes," he lies, trying vainly to find the source of his pain.

A door opens to a building before them, and a man emerges. He is unlike the others, the Unknown Man thinks. This man has a face. His face is weathered, sad. He has a strong jaw, a moustache, and stern eyes which stare cautiously at the Unknown Man.

"Sheriff Gordon," Alfred says, "this is the stranger."

Gordon does not smile. "Who are you?"

"I don't know," he answers. "I've lost my memory."

"Then you don't know where you came from? Or what happened to you?"

He shakes his head.

Gordon grins humourlessly. "Some of the villagers say you're a bandit, and that you've come to infiltrate our village, sabotage our defences, and let your gang in to plunder and kill us."

"That isn't why I'm here," he says flatly.

"Maybe not. But you understand why I'm suspicious. Alfred finds you by the side of the road, with no visible injuries, and brings you in against our advice. Now you claim to have no memory."

"Alfred says I was unconscious for several days," he counters.

Gordon's gaze is unrelenting. "They say that the assassins of the League of Shadows can enter a death trance that leaves them unconscious for days, or even weeks, at a time. And you are built like an assassin."

"If he was one of the League of Shadows," Alfred interjects, "we would be dead by now."

"Perhaps you are waiting for sundown?" Gordon says coolly.

"Then lock me up," the Unknown Man tells him. "Or cast me out. I don't belong here anyway."

Gordon stares at him for a long moment, then says, "No. You'll be treated to our hospitality. If we give in to our fear, we'll have already lost." He gestures to the house behind him. "Come into my home and we'll treat you to a meal."

Hunger overtakes him like a wave, and he realizes it may have been days since he has eaten. "Thank you," he says. Gordon is silent.

***

"There would be no point to locking you up anyway," Gordon is saying as he refills his glass of wine. "The bandits can easily overrun our defences at any time, with or without you. But instead, they keep us here, like caged animals, taking what they please from us and forcing us to live off of what remains."

Gordon's wife, Barbara, sips her wine pensively. Alfred chews his mutton with determination.

The Unknown Man says, "Maybe I can help you."

Gordon's expression does not change. "There isn't much that can be done."

"No?"

Taking a deep breath, Gordon says, "For over two years, we've been terrorized by these bandits. It's reached the point where any travellers, incoming or outgoing, are more likely than not to be attacked. So traffic has essentially stopped completely. These days, no one leaves Arkham, and you're the first visitor we've had in months."

The Unknown Man considers this. "These attacks – is there any pattern to them?"

"More or less. It's the same group of bandits each time. We think there's about fifteen of them, all told. We know their leader as the Cat Woman."

His pulse quickens, and he wonders why. "Catwoman?"

Gordon nods. "I believe she may have been trained by the League of Shadows and gone rogue, although I've heard that's rare. She's a deadly fighter, though. Once bested five of my deputies, killing two of them."

"So you've tried fighting them."

"Yes. It's not much use, though. There aren't enough trained fighting men in Arkham, and they fight using ambushes. The element of surprise, traps, and so on."

"I suppose help from the authorities in Gotham is not forthcoming?"

Gordon's jaw tightens. "We called on them for assistance once, nearly two years ago. Their 'help' proved worse than the bandits themselves. A group of assassins arrived in Arkham. The bandits knew they were coming and disappeared. The assassins stayed in Arkham for months, though, imposing curfews, searching our homes without warning, and subjecting villagers to the most brutal questioning techniques. They abducted fourteen of our townsfolk on charges of collaboration, and sent them to the dungeons in Gotham. We haven't seen any of them since, and I am certain that none of them were guilty."

"Then they just left one day, saying they'd finished, and then the bandits returned bolder than ever!" Barbara adds.

The Unknown Man finishes his mutton. "Then we must defeat the bandits ourselves."

Gordon raises an eyebrow. Alfred smiles slightly, and Barbara stares at him intently.

"If," the Unknown Man says, "as you say, there are less than twenty of them, and they attack you so regularly, they must be based nearby, and they must have an informant in Arkham telling them when to strike."

"I have considered that." Gordon pauses. "I believe the informant is one of my deputies."

"But you haven't acted on your suspicion?"

"Flass is well-liked in the village. I have no evidence to incriminate him."

"That does explain," Barbara interjects, "why he's so afraid of you."

The Unknown Man stares at her. "Afraid of me?"

"He thinks you're the Dream Knight," she tells him. "The Oracle – Gotham's finest fortune teller – once said that a warrior called the Dream Knight would come from Arkham and bring freedom to Gotham."

"Why is he afraid of that?"

Alfred says, "No one wants war, sir. Whether against the League of Shadows or against these bandits. Many in the village are content to accept things as they are for fear of losing what little they have."

"Which we most certainly would," Gordon says indignantly. "It is my duty to protect the people of Arkham, and I will not risk their lives in an impossible fight against the better armed, more highly trained bandits."

The Unknown Man listens impassively to Gordon's protests. "Fear," he says, "this will be our weapon. It is one that they have long used against you, but we will turn it against them. Your deputy, is afraid of me. We will use his fear against him, and instil it in the bandits."

"Do you actually plan to fight them?" Gordon is incredulous. "You will be killed!"

"We will fight them together," he says, "to free Arkham."

"You will have my help," says Alfred.

Gordon stands up and shouts, "You're both outsiders! You don't understand the suffering your 'help' will bring! Get out of my home!"

They stand, turn, and walk to the door. Before they leave, Alfred says to Gordon, "The walls of Arkham were built to keep our enemies out, but now they keep us in. Arkham has become a prison, and you hold the keys."

"Get out," Gordon growls again. Barbara's eyes move between Alfred, the Unknown Man, and Gordon.

"Let's go," the Unknown Man says, and they leave.

***

_The Unknown Man dreams a dark dream._

_He dreams of a dark world, a world of sickly lights and steam. A world choked in fear, which moves through the streets and alleyways like an invisible river._

_He is overcome by a crippling pain. It emanates from the depths of his being. He struggles against it, tries to raise his consciousness above the pain, but it is very strong, and all he can do is run from it, as if by continuous motion he can remain one step ahead of it._

_He sees the moon, eclipsed by a great, ghostly figure. It is a bat, and he knows it is calling him. Beneath its gaze, he moves silently through the dark world, following the currents of fear._

_There is laughter all around him. He can see a boy in a mask standing before him, and a pale man with a hideous grin._

_He runs forward, but they are gone, leaving only steam and darkness. The steam fills his lungs._

_He is lying alone in the darkness now, alone except for the bat in the moon. He can hear Alfred's voice, but cannot see him._

_"Master Bruce," Alfred says._

***

He awakens to a light shining in the window. He is lying on a mat on the floor of Alfred's cabin. He can hear Alfred in the small storage room. He goes to investigate, and sees Alfred struggling with a large trunk sitting amid a mess of odds and ends.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

Alfred looks up. "Ah. Well, it occurred to me that, if we are indeed going to present you as the Dream Knight, you should look the part."

He opens the trunk. Inside is a suit of armour. It is perfectly polished so that every surface functions as a mirror, and he can see his face in it, warped and distorted. Next to the armour, in a quiver of black cloth, is a set of finely-crafted boomerangs made of a solid black wood.

Alfred tells him, "When the king and queen were… deposed… I had been on an errand to retrieve this. It was forged by the great blacksmith Lucius the Fox, and the king had intended to present it to the leader of the League as a gift to buy his loyalty. But when I heard of the coup, I fled to Arkham, still in possession of the armour. I have not known what to do with it, but it seems appropriate for the Dream Knight. Do try it on."

He removes it from the trunk. The armour is light but extremely strong. Alfred helps him put it on, and he asks, "Do you know much about the Dream Knight?"

"I know that the Oracle is seldom mistaken," Alfred tells him, "but her prophecies are obscure and not easily interpreted. I don't believe she said anything about the Dream Knight except that he will liberate Gotham. Most of the villagers believe she means he will overthrow the Shadow King, but the prophecy predates his rise, so even that is not certain."

There is a cowl and a set of gauntlets with sharp scallops with the armour, made from the same mirrored metal. Putting them on, he asks Alfred, "Do I have the right to do this? What if Gordon's right, and fighting the bandits will cost them everything?"

"They have already lost everything, but they deny it. They're like the walking dead, but all they need is a spark. Something to make them remember what's worth fighting for."

The armour is a perfect fit, flexible but sturdy. Alfred observes, "Fascinating. It fits perfectly, even though it was forged for the Shadow King."

"Maybe I am the Shadow King," he muses.

"If you were, you could give me my job back," Alfred jokes.

The Unknown Man holds one of the boomerangs. It is perfectly weighted, and decorated with an intricate design. "These are beautiful."

"The boomerang is a preferred weapon of the assassins of the League of Shadows. I suggest you familiarize yourself with their use."

He observes his face in the reflection on his gauntlet. "Alfred," he says, "I had a dream where you called me 'Master Bruce.' Does that mean anything to you?"

He shakes his head. "No, sir. Does it mean anything to you?"

He searches his memory. "It's familiar," he says. "I don't think it's my name, but it feels like – it almost feels like an alias, or a name from a past life."

"If I may, sir, you do need a name."

He nods. "Call me Bruce, then. It'll do for now."

"Very well, Master Bruce."

***

He is in a deep meditative trance.

He is sitting in the shadows in a barn outside of Arkham. This is the third night he has spent here, meditating, waiting.

Around him, the barn is ghostly. The new moon casts no light, and even to his well-adjusted eyes, he can only see vague outlines around him like a charcoal sketch on black paper.

The barn belongs to a farmer named Cyrus Gold. It is a frequent target of raids by the Cat Woman and her gang, who often strike under the darkness of the new moon. So Bruce, the Unknown Man, is waiting.

He has been seeking the bliss of Samadhi, the meditative dissolution between Self and Being, but it has eluded him thus far. He cannot remember if he has ever attained this state. Maybe in his past life, before he lost his memory. Now he is haunted by the same laughter that continues to haunt the fringes of his consciousness.

He hears a sound. There are footsteps outside the door of the barn, and muttering. They are here. He waits, preparing himself for battle.

The door opens, and a torch is lit. He is in the far end of the barn, and can see its light but cannot make out the figures. He can hear three distinct male voices.

"Spread out," one says. "Let's get as much as we can. You know the drill."

The others acknowledge his orders and begin gathering fruit from the barn. Bruce rises slowly to his feet as one of the bandits approaches. He is clad in black, with a black mask, and carries a sword. The light of the torch reflects off of Bruce's armour, and shock crosses his indistinct face. Before he can make a sound, Bruce covers his mouth, whirls him around, and delivers a swift blow to a varma vital point on his lower back. The bandit grunts and goes limp, and Bruce extinguishes his torch and lays his unconscious form on the barn floor.

"Hey," one of the bandits calls out, "you alright over there?"

Bruce crouches and waits. The two bandits have joined together and are approaching, concerned about their comrade. He rises, pulls a boomerang from the quiver on his back, and hurls it at one of the two bandits, striking him in the shin. He cries out and drops, and Bruce is running at the second. Before his opponent can react, Bruce has driven his knee into the bandit's stomach. He sputters and drops.

One of the bandits is still conscious, cradling his broken leg. Bruce retrieves his boomerang, takes a torch, and seizes the injured bandit by the tunic.

"Are there any more outside?" he asks in a low, authoritative voice that he feels as though he has used a thousand times.

The bandit groans, nearly masking the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps. Bruce releases the bandit and whirls, holding his torch ahead of him. His attacker recoils. By the torchlight he can see her. She is clad in black leather armour and a long black cloak, and she is brandishing a spiked whip. Over her face is a black cowl similar to Bruce's, but with short horns. Her form is lithe and muscular as a gymnast's, and her brilliant green eyes reflect the light of Bruce's torch.

_The Cat Woman_, he thinks to himself. He steadies his breathing and draws the largest of his boomerangs, holding it like a sword in one hand and his torch in the other.

"Who are you?" she demands, slowly circling around him, arms held in a defensive stance. He can see that she has a type of brass-knuckle weapon with sharp blades, giving the effect of claws protruding from her fist.

"I am the Dream Knight," he says.

"Indeed," she growls. With blinding speed, she lashes her whip at him, and he sidesteps and deflects the whip with his boomerang. As he is doing this, she leaps at him, slashing her claw. This he catches using the scallops in his gauntlet, redirecting the force of her attack. For a split-second, they are locked together as she returns her whip, and he can feel the focused power of her qi. He lets it blend with his so that their movements are attuned, and uses his torch to force her to draw back.

"You are one of the League," she says, "here to kill me."

"I'm not."

They circle each other warily, their movements synchronized. "Then where did you learn your techniques?"

He considers this question carefully, not fully knowing the answer. "They are a part of me, just as they're part of you."

Her muscles tense in anticipation of another attack, and he uses the opportunity for an attack of his own. He slashes the torch ahead of him to confuse her vision while sidestepping quickly for a sidelong jab at her with his boomerang. She does a forward flip, and he realizes she had been feigning an attack to draw him in. She spins and drives her knee into the back of his leg, and it buckles. As he goes down, he sees her driving her claw towards his neck. He twists, shielding his neck with his shoulder, and pain erupts as the blades stab into his flesh. Knowing that her claw is momentarily embedded in his shoulder, he focuses and swings his boomerang low with his other hand, striking her hard in the ankle. She drops and rolls away from him. It takes her a moment longer than him to return to her feet, and he uses the opportunity to lunge forward and slash his boomerang down hard towards her. She brings her whip up and it wraps around his weapon, redirecting it, but he pulls back suddenly, tearing the weapon from her hand. She leaps backwards.

"Your skills are impressive," the Cat Woman says, bringing her breathing under control. "I underestimated you, but I won't again."

The pain in his shoulder is like a drunken boor shouting in his ear, but he ignores it, focusing on his breathing. "You and your bandits are finished. You won't trouble Arkham again."

"Arkham is a village of cowards and fools. They won't stand against us, and you can't fight us alone."

"We'll see about that." Despite his injured shoulder, he is still clutching his torch tightly, and his boomerang is now wrapped in her spiked whip, making it a deadly spiked club. However, she is now fighting with both claw weapons and will be a far quicker and more agile fighter. He knows what is next, and shifts his weight, ready for her next attack.

She feints, and then lunges forward with a flurry of kicks and slashes. He parries, angling himself to force her to put her weight on her injured ankle. This slows her down slightly, and he uses his torch to parry one of her kicks, allowing it to be knocked from his numb fingers. It lands on the earthen floor of the barn and the flame dies, plunging them into darkness. Having anticipated this, he is ready, and suddenly kicks her in the injured ankle, and she drops to the ground. He plunges his boomerang downwards, and it makes contact. He feels the spikes tearing leather and flesh. She snarls and rolls backwards.

"You've made a mistake." She is breathing heavily now, and he can hear the pain causing her voice to tremble. "Arkham will pay for this."

"This fight is between us," he responds. "If you punish them for what I've done, then you're the real coward."

She hisses and retreats quickly. He can hear the unevenness of her footsteps as they recede out of the barn into the night.

He waits until he is certain that she has gone, then binds his wound with cloth from one of the unconscious bandits. The dawn's light is beginning to emerge, and in the dim purple half-light, he finds some baling twine and ties his still-unconscious captives together. Then exhaustion begins to over take him, and he seats himself near the captives, his back against a barrel of fruit, and allows himself a moment of rest.

***

The sun reaches its zenith, and he is driving a mule and cart into Arkham, still wearing his Dream Knight armour.

A village sentry meets him at the gate, and Bruce says, "I have captured three of the bandits. Tell Gordon to prepare the jail cell."

Surprise crosses the sentry's vague features. "Captured them?"

"They were robbing Cyrus Gold. I surprised them."

The sentry hurries off, and Bruce continues to drive his cart. Within minutes, Gordon meets him in the town square. A crowd of faceless villagers has gathered behind him. They are whispering, and he hears the words "Dream Knight."

"What's the meaning of this?" Gordon demands.

Bruce stops the cart and forces the three captives to lift their heads. They grunt angrily against the makeshift cloth gags he fashioned.

"I captured these bandits last night at the Gold farm. I also fought their leader, the Cat Woman, but she escaped."

Gasps and murmurs come from the crowd, and Gordon steps forward. "What are we supposed to do with them?"

"Lock them up," he answers.

"The bandits will come for them! Don't you realize you've brought war upon Arkham?"

He shakes his head. "I've studied maps of the forest around Arkham. I can find their base. The Cat Woman is injured, and it'll be at least a day before she's ready to fight again. I'll find them before that and destroy them."

"You can't fight them alone!" Gordon protests.

He stares into Gordon's eyes. "Then are you prepared to fight them when they come?"

Gordon looks at the crowd. Bruce can distinguish their faces now, and can feel an energy coming from them that did not exist a moment ago.

Turning to face Bruce again, Gordon says, "We will fight them with you. We're through living in fear."

The crowd cheers, and Bruce smiles slightly. "Then there's work to be done."

***

Preparations have gone well, Bruce thinks as he wanders Arkham in full Dream Knight armour. Since yesterday, many of the able-bodied villagers have been given rudimentary combat training. The others have set traps throughout town, learned basic first aid, or been prepared to deliver messages and supplies. The progress they have made, Bruce notes, is largely thanks to the willingness of the villagers' drive. He has gotten to know many of them, and their determination has sustained him during the often-frustrating training sessions.

Now it is sunset, and he wonders if an attack will come this night. He knows that few of the villagers slept last night, and wonders whether the Cat Woman is waiting in order to exhaust them.

"Dream Knight," comes a girl's voice, "come quickly!"

It comes from a copse of trees near the Arkham outer wall. He hurries into the trees, wondering what could be wrong, and suddenly finds his good arm twisted behind his back and a metal claw at his throat.

"Move," the Cat Woman breathes into his ear, "and I will kill you."

He curses himself for not recognizing her voice. "How did you get in?"

"I have my contacts on the inside," she hisses. "Not all of Gordon's men share his confidence in you. But I have heard how you gave them their fighting spirit back."

He considers a hundred scenarios in which he tries an escape. None of them are likely to make it past the claw at his jugular. He steadies his voice and says, "You can kill me, but they'll fight you. I will become a symbol for them to rally around."

"Unlikely," she says, her breath hot against his neck. "But I'm not here to take your life."

He is perplexed, and a shade relieved. "No?"

"No. You will release my men that you are holding, and my bandits will trouble Arkham no more. You have my word."

"Why are you doing this?"

The claw lowers slightly. "Because I have seen your capacity to inspire. People believe that you are the Dream Knight. And that is what you will become. What you have started here, you will bring to all of Gotham, and bring freedom from the Shadow King."

"And you believe I can do that?"

She says in a low voice, "I spared your life today. Understand that it belongs to me now. I've heard that you were called 'the Unknown Man.' He is dead now. You are only the Dream Knight, and you will either fulfill the prophecy or die trying."

She places a rolled-up paper in the hand behind his back and releases him. By the time he turns around, she is in a tree next to the outer wall.

"Wait!" he calls. "How can I be the Dream Knight? What do you want me to do?"

She looks down at him from the tree. "Go to the Oracle. Ask her."

She tenses, ready to jump over the wall, and he calls again, "If you want me to succeed, help me!"

"You will see me again," she says, her green eyes flashing. Then she leaps over the wall and is gone. He hears a gentle landing and her nearly-silent footsteps receding. Rubbing his throat, he emerges from the copse of trees.

Alfred and Gordon are in the town square co-ordinating the town's defences. He approaches them and says, "It's over. We've won. Release the prisoners."

They turn to him incredulously. "What?" Gordon says, his eyes narrowed.

"The Cat Woman came to me," he tells them. "She wants us to release the prisoners, and she gave me her word that they'll leave us alone."

A number of villagers is watching them now. "Do you believe her?" Gordon asks.

"Yes," Bruce replies, and finds that he means it. "She could have killed me and burned Arkham to the ground, but she knows that by overcoming our fear, we've already won."

Gordon turns to Alfred. "What do you think?"

Alfred considers this. "I think we should do as she says, but be prepared for treachery. But I must say that if she had the opportunity to kill our Dream Knight but did not, it certainly does not seem likely that she would choose to attack later." He points to the paper Bruce is holding. "What is that?"

Bruce unfurls it. It is a map of Arkham and the surrounding area, and a location is marked in the woods. On the map is written, "This is our base. You will find it abandoned, and much that we have taken from Arkham is inside for you to take."

Gordon regards the map, then says to his deputies, "Take the prisoners outside the gate and release them, but keep a watch tonight in case the Cat Woman changes her mind."

They acknowledge his orders. The crowd disperses, talking jubilantly among themselves, and Gordon takes Bruce and Alfred aside.

"Did she say anything else to you?" he asks Bruce.

"Yes. She wants – she demanded that I fulfill the prophecy of the Dream Knight."

"Intriguing," Alfred muses. "Of course, we have a common enemy in the Shadow King and his League."

Bruce nods. "And she said I should go to the Oracle."

"I'd ask you to stay here a few days first, just to be safe," Gordon tells him. "Then we can direct you there. But when you go, be careful; no one's been able to reach the Oracle since the Shadow King came to power. There's apparently a mad monk who doesn't let anyone near her. They call him the Riddler."

"A few days will allow your shoulder to heal fully," Alfred adds.

"Very well," Bruce says. "Let's see if the Cat Woman keeps her word."

***

He is meditating outside Alfred's cabin.

The crisp night air fills his lungs. It is a clear night, and the forest is a sea of purple. He recites a mantra, closes his eyes, and focuses on his breathing.

He hears the laughter again in his mind. He tightens his jaw resolutely. _Who are you,_ he wonders angrily, _who interrupts my tranquility?_

He tries to focus on the laughter. It is elusive, but with determination, he concentrates on it, and draws it into his consciousness.

Now the laughter has grown more tangible. Instead of echoing from the edges of his mind, he can hear it clearly now as if from directly in front of him, shrill and hysterical like a hyena.

He opens his eyes. Sitting before him, mimicking his lotus position, is a jester clad in purple and green. His limbs are long, his hair is green, and his skin is a pale grey. An unnatural grin seems permanently etched upon his face, and in his eyes, there is nothing but madness.

"Joker," Bruce says, somehow knowing his name.

"Well, well," the Joker says, looking around. "Nice night, isn't it?"

"Why are you here?" he asks the madman.

"Why, you brought me here, Brucie!" He licks his lips with a long, black tongue. "Or maybe I brought you here. I'm not sure. Time… it can be confusing."

Bruce glares at the Joker. "How do you know my name?"

"Same way you know mine!" He cackles to himself. "I also hear you've got another alias these days. Something dreamy – Dream Night, Night Dreamer, Nightmarer, Wet Dreamer… am I close?"

"What do you want?" Bruce says sternly.

"Oh, I'm just popping in to see how you're doing. I think it's great what you're trying to do here. Really exciting. Stuff of legends. Folks in Gotham won't know what hit 'em."

"Get to the point, Joker."

"The point? There's no point. That's the point!" He breaks into hysterical laughter.

Bruce sighs and leans forward to stand. The Joker sees this, and says, "Now, Bruce, there's no need to get violent. Just close your eyes and count to three, and I'll be gone."

"Joker…"

"CLOSE YOUR EYES, DAMN IT!" he shrieks. Then, calmly, "You do want me to leave you alone."

Bruce rolls his eyes, then closes them. Listening intently for movement from the Joker, he counts to three –

– and he is alone in the night.

He shakes his head, then returns to the lotus position, closes his eyes, and seeks the peace of Samadhi.


	2. Psychopomp

**Chapter 2 of Dream Knight. I appreciate the feedback! This chapter features the Riddler, and if it doesn't make complete sense now, come back to it after the end of the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters, nor anything by Lewis Carroll.**

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 2: Psychopomp**

_And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going though the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; `for it might end, you know,' said Alice to herself, `in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing._

- Lewis Carroll,

_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_

_He dreams the same dream every night._

_He is running through streets and alleys in a dimly-lit maze of concrete and steel. There are mirrors everywhere, and they warp and distort so that a different face stares back from each one. Pain is all around him, and he knows that it will consume him when he stops running. So he continues to follow his random path through the labyrinth as the bat in the moon gazes down at him._

***

"Master Bruce?"

Groggily, he opens his eyes. Alfred is there, holding a tray. There is a bowl of oatmeal on the tray and a steaming tea kettle.

"I thought you might like to be awakened, sir, since today is the day you are visiting the Oracle."

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce says, sitting up. He dons his black tunic and joins Alfred at the small table in the centre of his cabin. "I was up late meditating again."

Alfred pours some tea. "Were there any surprises?"

"No," he says. "I still can't concentrate, and I don't understand why. But, on the bright side, still no Joker."

"He only appeared once, correct?"

"Yeah, just the one time. And I still don't know what to make of it. Maybe I was hallucinating or something? But he seemed so real."

Alfred slices some bread. "Perhaps the Oracle can shed some light on that, as well."

"I hope so." Bruce sips his tea. "Mm. Good tea. My compliments."

"It came from the bandits' lair. One of the many luxuries the village is currently enjoying, thanks to you."

Bruce nods. It has been two weeks since his encounter with the Cat Woman and her bandits, and they have not returned since. A week ago, they followed her directions to her lair and found it abandoned except for a sizeable hoard of goods which had been plundered from Arkham and the surrounding area. He asks Alfred, "So do you know anything about this Riddler who's supposed to live at the monastery?"

"I know nothing except hearsay. Only a handful of people have attempted to see the Oracle in years, and the ones who have are very hesitant to discuss their experiences."

"What about the Oracle herself?"

Alfred pours himself a second cup of tea. "She is the latest in a long line of women mystics skilled in the art of prophecy. Since time immemorial, the kings and queens of Gotham have sought out their guidance. Of course, that ended with the Shadow King. I believe he is afraid of her. I heard that he once sent in four of his assassins to kill her. The next day, they emerged mad as the proverbial March Hare."

"That's good to know," Bruce says. "But that didn't happen to others who tried to see the Oracle?"

"No. If I may guess, I would say it's because the assassins tried to force their way through."

Bruce nods. "I'll keep that in mind."

Alfred sighs. "I regret that I will not be able to accompany you to the monastery. I have grown rather more feeble with age than I would care to admit, and I think the walk may be more than I can handle. But do be careful, Master Bruce."

"Thanks, Alfred," he replies. He can hear the sincerity in Alfred's voice. "Don't worry about me. I'm hoping it will be quick – just in, talk to the Oracle, and then out again."

"One hopes," Alfred says.

***

It takes about three hours for Gordon and Bruce to walk to the Oracle's monastery, which is situated in the woods overlooking the sea. Bruce is shocked by its size – all of the buildings in Arkham had been small houses and cabins, but the monastery is massive. It is surrounded by a great stone wall, and beyond the wall Bruce can see the high arches of an ornate, Gothic-flavoured building.

"This is it," Gordon says.

Bruce nods his approval, folding his arms across the breastplate of his armour. "Spectacular! Who built this?"

"You're asking the wrong person. It's been here forever, as far as I know. But I can tell you that the royal palace in Gotham City makes even this look modest."

The two men stand in silence for a moment. Then Bruce says, "I'm going in."

"Very well. I'll be back this time tomorrow to check on you, if you haven't returned by then."

"I appreciate it. I am hoping to be back before sundown though." He turns toward the building.

"Bruce," Gordon says, "ah… listen. When you see the Oracle, can you let her know… when this is all over – I mean, I'd like to see her myself sometime."

_Interesting, _Bruce thinks. _Wouldn't have thought Gordon had a mystical side_. "I'll let her know."

"Thanks."

Gordon waits as he opens the gate leading into the monastery. A stairway leads downward. He turns, gives a last nod to Gordon, closes the door behind him, and starts down the stairs.

The stairs lead about three storeys down into a dark, cavernous corridor with huge, ornate doors on each side. He makes his way down the corridor, trying one door after another. Each is locked solidly.

After about a hundred metres, the corridor comes to an end. There is an iron gate, beyond which is a staircase leading upwards into sunlight. In front of the gate is a small wooden table. As he approaches, Bruce sees that there is a teacup, teapot, and a handwritten note on the table. The note reads, "Drink, stranger."

Steam rises lazily from the teapot. _They knew I was coming,_ he thinks. Warily, he tries the gate. It is locked and secured firmly.

_I wonder if they do this for every visitor,_ he wonders, recalling what Alfred had told him about the attack by the League of Shadows. He inspects the gate. _No sign of damage_, he thinks, _and judging from the condition of the iron, it's been here for a while. When the assassins came, either they found some way to open it without damaging it, or else they were allowed in._

He eyes the teapot, weighing his options. _It doesn't seem likely that they'd leave ordinary tea here for me to drink,_ he thinks, _but then, it may be a test of some kind._

Cautiously, he pours a cup of tea and brings it to his nose. It smells like tea, although he cannot identify the type.

After about five minutes of deliberation, he decides that nothing is likely to happen until he drinks the tea. He dips the finger of his gauntlet into the cup and tastes the tea. Unfamiliar, but not unusual. He waits a few minutes, and, noticing no ill effects, drinks the tea in the cup.

_At least they have good taste,_ he thinks as it warms his throat. He looks around. Nothing happens, and he absently pours himself another cup and begins to sip.

He hears a sound and strains to listen. _Water,_ he realizes. _There's water coming from under the doors._

Soon there is water around his boots, and it is rising quickly. He walks back the way he came. The water is up to his knees by the time he reaches the entrance of the corridor, which has been blocked by a heavy gate.

He looks to the arched ceiling of the corridor, which is about six metres from the floor. _There's no way this whole hallway is going to flood,_ he tells himself, making his way back to the end. The water is up to his waist now, and he is debating taking his armour off in order to swim when he sees a man in a small canoe rowing towards him.

"Ahoy there," the man says, "climb aboard!"

Bruce approaches the canoe cautiously. The man is fair-skinned, with a clean-shaven head and a green robe. He is extending a hand. Deciding to take his chances in the canoe rather than tread water, Bruce makes his way to him. They steady the canoe against one of the walls as Bruce climbs in and sits facing the stranger.

"Who are you?" he asks the man in green.

"I could ask you the same question," the man replies, eyeing him quizzically.

"I'm a stranger to this land," Bruce tells him. "I'm here to see the Oracle."

The water level is now about two metres from the ceiling, and it appears to Bruce to have stopped rising.

"She hasn't been accepting many visitors lately," the man in green tells him.

"Are you her guardian?" Bruce inquires. "The one they call the Riddler?"

He looks amused. "You could call me that," he smirks, "but I don't deal in riddles." He turns away from Bruce and begins to paddle. "Let's go this way, shall we?"

There is another paddle in the canoe, and Bruce helps him paddle towards the end of the corridor where he drank the tea. "No riddles?"

"People don't like my riddles because they all have the same answer," he replies.

_Now we're making progress, _Bruce thinks. "And what answer is that?"

"Teatime," the Riddler says nonchalantly. They reach the end of the corridor, and the last door on the left is open. "Let's go this way. Duck."

They paddle through the doorway, ducking under the archway. Another dark corridor extends before them. The Riddler fumbles with a lantern, lights it, and sets it at the bow of the canoe.

"How did all this water get in here?" Bruce ventures.

"Tides. I blame it on the man in the moon." He pauses. "Curious expression, isn't it? I always saw a rabbit in the moon. But I've heard some say they see a bat."

Bruce shivers slightly, recalling the great bat in his dreams.

"Anyway, that mischievous moon rabbit brings all this water into the tunnels," the Riddler continues, paddling methodically. "What brings you into the tunnels? I assume you're following our other recent visitor?"

"What visitor?" Bruce asks, confused. "I was told to see the Oracle by the Cat Woman."

The Riddler starts, nearly dropping his paddle. He turns to face Bruce, clearly agitated. "_She _sent you here?"

Bruce stares at him. "Yes. Why?"

"I don't like her," the Riddler says anxiously. "We met once. She said if she ever met me in the street, she'd kill me."

"Why?"

"Who can say?" The Riddler regains some of his composure. "Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about her anymore."

"Alright," he replies, perplexed. The Riddler resumes his rowing, and they move in silence down the corridor for several minutes.

"Riddle me this," the Riddler says suddenly. "Diana is a beautiful young lady. Her father is a noted adventurer, and he has a young partner whom we will call Wings. Diana and Wings butt heads at first, but they soon fall deeply in love, and she longs to be with him as a partner and lover. But her father disapproves, since he doesn't want his daughter pursuing the dangerous life of an adventurer. He forbids Diana and Wings from seeing each other.

"One night, Diana sneaks out of her father's house and runs away with Wings. They marry, and together they have many successful exploits. But they feel very guilty about leaving Diana's father. One day, years later, Wings returns to Diana's father's home. He sees him and tells him of their life together.

"'If only that were true!' Diana's father laments. 'Alas, Diana was crippled ten years ago. She has not walked since.'

"'Impossible,' Wings says. 'She has been my wife and adventuring partner for ten years!'

"Diana's father leads Wings to Diana's bedroom, where she sits, confined to a chair. At that moment, the adventurer Diana walks into the room, meets her crippled counterpart, and the two are made into one.

"So tell me, which was the real Diana?"

Bruce paddles silently for a moment, pondering the riddle. Then he says, "Teatime."

The Riddler turns to him, eyes narrowed. "Lucky guess," he says. Then he shrugs and resumes paddling. "Then again, maybe not. After all, they say you're the world's greatest detective."

"Who says that?"

"I can't remember."

They reach a stairway that rises out of the water into the sunlight. "Well, here you are," the Riddler tells him.  
"What?"

"This is where you get off." The Riddler stares at him impatiently.

"Wait!" Bruce says. "I have questions –"

"It's the Oracle who answers questions in here," the Riddler replies. "I only ask them. Now go; we'll meet again soon."

Bruce climbs out of the canoe, and the Riddler paddles into the darkness. _Maybe he's taken me to the Oracle,_ he thinks. He turns and climbs the stairs.

The stairs lead Bruce to a large, open courtyard. The sun is setting, and he thinks, _It was noon when I entered the monastery. Has a whole afternoon really passed?_

Looking around, he realizes that he has no idea where to go. The stairs emerged into the middle of the field, and he can see a number of places where stairs lead back into the ground. At intervals along the outer walls of the courtyard are Gothic-looking houses. Several large buildings are at the far end of the courtyard. Anxiety grips Bruce; each of the imposing buildings seem equally likely to house the Oracle. _But then_, he wonders, _maybe the large buildings are there to mislead me, and she's in one of the houses, or underground._ He begins to panic, overcome by the feeling that a wrong choice will lead to madness or death, but unable to make any decision whatsoever.

He tries to recite a mantra to calm himself, and is terrified to realize he cannot remember any. _The tea_, he realizes. _There was something in the tea I drank. I've been drugged._ In place of a mantra, he repeats aloud, "I've been drugged."

Finding that the sound of his own voice provides a sort of anchor to reality, he continues, "I've been drugged, but I've been through worse than this. This is a test, and I'll overcome it. I will find the right door."

He turns around. Behind him is a dilapidated wooden hut. Smoke rises from its chimney, and it stands above the ground on what appear to be the legs of a bird. He shudders at the unnatural sight, saying to himself, "This is the drugs. I am hallucinating." Unable to stop himself, he walks toward it, and the legs crouch to let him in.

He reaches for the doorknob and opens the door. There is horrible, ear-splitting screeching coming from inside. It is dark and smoky in the hut, obscuring his view. He climbs inside, and is thrown to the ground as the legs suddenly lift the hut back to its previous height.

"I've been drugged. I'm hallucinating," he repeats to himself, trying to focus on his own voice over the screeching. He climbs to his feet as his eyes adjust to the darkness. The hut is empty except for a woman in a ragged white dress who is sitting in a rocking chair. She is pale as a corpse, with blue lips and jaundiced eyes, and she is rocking a small bundle which seems to be the source of the screeching. Over the din, Bruce can hear that the woman is singing it a disturbing, atonal lullaby. Somehow, Bruce recognizes her instantly as Martha, the former queen of Gotham. He walks towards her, his legs trembling.

She looks up slowly to stare at him. Smiling slightly, she lifts the bundle and says in a ghostly voice, "Take this. It is yours."

He takes the screeching bundle from her hands and moves the cloth to look at its face. It is an oversized foetal bat. His gut clenches with terror, and he turns from the dead queen and walks quickly toward the door, clutching the screaming, half-formed thing tightly. The house lurches forwards and he stumbles out the door into the twilight.

Upon emerging into the courtyard, the foetus calms down and its screaming ceases. Bruce looks at it again, noticing that it is now a fully formed bat. He releases it, and it flies out of his hands into the evening sky.

He breathes deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. He turns around to where the hut stood. It is gone now, and in its place is a tree stump. The Riddler is sitting cross-legged upon it, smoking from a hookah.

"Tell me," he says to Bruce, "have you seen your face before you were born?"

Bruce breathes deeply, then walks to the Riddler and kicks the hookah from his hands. The Riddler smiles enigmatically.

"Tell me which way to go," Bruce demands.

"It doesn't really matter."

"Where is the Oracle?"

"Any direction will lead you to her eventually," the Riddler tells him. "But if you like, some friends of mine are having a tea party at the gazebo not far from here. They'll take you to the Oracle. But watch out; they're quite mad."

"I'm sick of dealing with madmen," Bruce growls.

"That's unfortunate," the Riddler says, grinning, "because we're all mad. You. Me. Everybody."

"What makes you think I'm mad?"

"The fact that you're here." The Riddler yawns. "I'm tired. Go see my friends. I think you already know one of them." He stands and walks to the staircase from which Bruce had emerged from the flooded tunnel. Bruce watches as he descends out of sight, then turns toward the gazebo.

***

The short walk allows Bruce an opportunity to collect himself somewhat. The hallucinogenic effects of the tea have not worn off yet, he decides, but the worst may be over. He wonders how much, if any, of what he has experienced since entering the monastery has been real.

He reaches the gazebo and sees three figures sitting at a table under its roof. One is a small man with a large top hat who is pouring tea from a huge teapot. The second is the Riddler, who is resting his head on the table, his eyes closed. The third is the Joker, who sips a cup of tea and eyes Bruce interestedly. There is a fourth chair, and Bruce sits in it and glares at them.

"Hatter," says the Joker, "this is Bruce, the Dream Knight. Bruce, this is the Mad Hatter, one of my new friends." The small man regards Bruce nervously.

"I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," Bruce says humourlessly to the Joker.

"Nor I you," the Joker grins. "Please, have some tea."

"No."

"Suit yourself." He reaches over the sleeping Riddler to take a cup of tea from the Mad Hatter.

The Mad Hatter fidgets. "What time is it?"

The Joker rolls his eyes and pulls out a pocket watch. "Late," he says impatiently. The Mad Hatter leans over to look at the watch, and the Joker throws it at him. The Hatter regards it closely, then puts it up to his ear.

"Only one hand," the Riddler says, as if in his sleep, "and doesn't make a sound."

"Time doesn't pass in here," the Joker says, "thanks to the Hatter."

Bruce regards the little man, who explains, "I went to sing for the Oracle once, long before _he _came here," pointing to the Joker. "But she didn't like it. She said I couldn't keep time."

"Still," Bruce says, "you must have better things to do with your time to waste it with the likes of the Joker."

"Time isn't an 'it,'" the Hatter quickly says. "He's a 'him.'"

"What?" Bruce asks.

"Oh yes," the Hatter says. "He came down from his home in the mountains to visit us once."

"We couldn't keep him, though," the Riddler adds dreamily. "But someone is. A timekeeper, keeping Time from passing through here. In fact, Time's keeping time from passing anywhere. So we're all frozen in a moment of darkness, waiting for the morning light to come."

The Hatter and the Joker stare contemptuously at the Riddler. "I hate riddles," the Joker sneers.

"I have a riddle of my own," Bruce says, staring at the Joker. "What looks like a rat but flies like a moth?"

The Joker and the Hatter sit in uncomfortable silence, exchanging glances.

"A bat," he tells them.

"Ah yes," the Hatter says anxiously. "The great bugs of the night."

"Bats aren't bugs, idiot," the Joker snaps. "They're more like foxes. Flying foxes."

The Hatter retorts, "Well, if you're so smart, why couldn't you answer the riddle?"

"I was expecting something funny," the Joker pouts.

"Funny you should mention bats, though," the Hatter says, staring at the full moon. "The song I sang for the Oracle was about bats. 'Twinkle twinkle, little bat,' it went; 'how I wonder what you're at.'"

"'Up above the world you fly,'" Bruce continues, knowing the words but not knowing how, "'like a tea-tray in the sky…'"

"I'm bored!" the Joker interrupts. "I want to hear another riddle!" He begins to kick the Riddler under the table. Excitedly, the Hatter joins in, slapping the Riddler on the arm.

The Riddler opens his eyes. "All right," he says, looking impassively at the two madmen. "How about this one: There were three sisters who lived in a flower –"

"That's impossible!" the Hatter interrupts. "What did they eat? What did they drink?"

Facing Bruce, the Riddler takes the oversized teapot and begins to pour a cup of tea. The cup overflows, but he keeps pouring. He continues calmly, "It was a giant flower, and was full of sweet nectar. But they soon found that they couldn't leave."

"Delicious," the Joker says, licking his lips. "So what did they do?"

"They drew pictures –"

"Pictures of what?" demands the Hatter.

"– of many things. They drew the moon. They drew a magnificent mousetrap. They drew memory. They drew muchness."

"I hate riddles!" the Joker shrieks, and seizes the Riddler by the back of his head. The Hatter takes the teapot and removes the lid, and together they force his head into the teapot, laughing hysterically. Bruce watches dispassionately as the Riddler sputters, and in the steam rising from the teapot, he can almost see the Riddler's face, laughing along with his murderers.

Soon the Riddler's body is still. Without saying a word, Bruce rises to his feet and walks past them towards the large buildings beyond.

"Funny," he can hear the Joker saying, "I thought for sure he was going to try to stop us."

***

There is an open door on the largest of the buildings, and Bruce walks inside, leaving the lunacy of the tea party behind him. The building is as ornate on the inside as on the outside. Hanging candles light a large hall with a beautiful tile floor, and shadows reflect off the sculpturing on the wall. At the opposite end of the hall, a young, red-haired woman in a white robe is sitting at a table, completing a house of cards.

Bruce approaches her slowly. There is a wooden chair at the table, and he sits facing her. She is gazing disinterestedly at a pair of cards on the table.

"Are you the Oracle?" he asks her softly.

She raises her eyes, looking at him through the house of cards. "I am."

Not knowing where to begin, he ventures, "I wanted to ask you some questions."

"If I may, before we begin," she says, "I want to know why you sat by as they killed the Riddler."

"The Riddler was never real to begin with." His voice does not waver.

"Mm. Quite right." She absently shifts the cards on the table. "But the same could be said about any of us."

"I know the difference."

"I know you do. You were the only one to answer all of his riddles correctly, even if you may not have fully grasped the significance of your answers."

"Why all the riddles?"

"In each riddle is an answer. They will become more clear to you as your journey continues."

"Answers to my questions?"

"Yes." She steeples her fingers.

Bruce inhales deeply. "The Riddler spoke of a man who lives in the mountains. What was the significance of that?"

"There is a man in the mountains whom you must seek. He is a wandering exile; the locals know him as the Demon's Head, or in the old tongue, Ra's al-Ghul. He knows the secrets and weaknesses of the Shadow King."

"And I am to fight the Shadow King?"

"You say you are the Dream Knight."

He hesitates. "Am I the Dream Knight? That's a name I'm borrowing from you."

The Oracle looks down. "That will depend upon your future, which is something I am reluctant to read."

"Why?"

"I would have to take down my house of cards in order to give a reading."

He looks at the structure. "But these are just ordinary playing cards!"

"Yes," she says. "A deck of fifty-two cards, plus two jokers which I have been unable to fit into my house." She shifts the two cards on the table.

"But can you really read my fortune from these?"

"Upon the random geometry of chance one may read futures superimposed by the heart, which already knows all things," she tells him. "The Dream Knight is the one who will liberate Gotham. If you are that one, you do not need me to tell you."

He sighs. "And I have to be the one, don't I?"

"Yes. And yet, it is always your choice, and you will find it the most difficult choice that you will ever make."

He is silent for a long moment. "I get the feeling you don't deal in specifics."

"These have already been shown to you."

"And this man in the mountains will tell me what I need to know about the Shadow King."

"That is correct." She pauses, inspecting her house of cards. "I can tell you this, though; to avoid the eyes of the League of Shadows, you should take the old road through the Great Forest to the northern mountains. But be warned: in the forest lives a being called Ivy. No man has been known to resist her."

He nods. "Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me."

She looks at him again. He estimates that she is not more than twenty-five, but an ancient wisdom seems to live in her eyes. "You honour me with your visit."

Bruce stands, then remembers, "Oh. Also, there is a man named Gordon who hopes to see you someday."

For the first time, he sees her smile slightly, and it reminds him of the sheriff. "Gordon is a good man. Tell him that we shall indeed be reunited once Gotham is made free."

He bows before her, and she bows her head, remaining in her seat. He walks out of the building, across the now-deserted courtyard, and through the monastery gate.

***

As he walks back to Gotham, he sees by the dawn's pale glow a slender figure standing before him in the road.

"Cat Woman," he says.

She approaches him, arms folded, her green eyes giving him a penetrating stare. "You have seen the Oracle?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what you must do."

"I am to travel to the mountains," he tells her, "and find a wanderer called Ra's al-Ghul."

"I know of him," she nods. "So you are the Dream Knight."

"Apparently."

She shifts her weight. "In that case, I will travel with you on your journey, since it is said that the Dream Knight will have as his protector a deadly female assassin."

Surprised, he asks, "Who said that?"

"I did." The faintest hint of a smile appears on her lips.

He regards the black-clad woman. "Well," he says, "I can't argue with prophecy."

She puts her hands on her hips. "Go to Arkham and prepare. You will meet me at dawn three days from now at Arkham's northern gate." And she turns, darts into the woods, and is gone.

Bruce stares into the murky depths of the woods for a moment, then continues on his way to Arkham. He had not expected to see the mysterious Cat Woman again, and is still uncertain as to whether he can trust her.

But the road before him is a daunting one, he realizes, and the thought of not walking it alone fills him with more relief than he could have expected.


	3. Into the Green

**Chapter 3 of the continuing saga of the Dream Knight, featuring Poison Ivy and some appearances by Killer Croc and Clayface. Rating is for some violence and sexuality. Also, I've gone back and fixed a formatting problem in the last two chapters; paragraph breaks will be more obvious now. Whoops.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters.**

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 3: Into the Green**

_In Xanadu did Kubla Khan _

_A stately pleasure-dome decree:_

_Where Alph, the sacred river, ran_

_Through caverns measureless to man_

_Down to a sunless sea,_

_So twice five miles of fertile ground_

_With walls and towers were girdled round:_

_And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,_

_Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;_

_And here were forests ancient as the hills,_

_Enfolding sunny spots of greenery._

_- Samuel Taylor Coleridge,_

"_Kubla Khan"_

With a deep, inhuman growl emanating from the back of its throat, the reptilian monster lunges forward.

Bruce dodges quickly behind one of the massive, ancient trees surrounding him. Keeping its trunk between himself and the killer crocodile-like monster, he breathes deeply and focuses his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees the Cat Woman crouching among a patch of ferns, awaiting an opening to attack the monster.

She had warned him not to stray from the path through the Great Forest. It had been one of the few things she had said to him over the course of their journey. She told him that few who entered the murky green depths of the forest were known to return. But he had strayed from the path, drawn by the sound of a child's frightened cry, and now finds himself confronted by the monstrosity as the child, a young girl with pale green skin, pointed ears, and long, orange hair, watches anxiously from a nearby tree.

The monster leaps at him from his left, falling onto all fours and snapping its jaws as Bruce draws backwards just in time. He holds his combat boomerang ahead of him, unsure if it will be any use against its scaly green hide. Wishing he was better equipped to deal with the dangers of the woods, he backs onto the higher ground of an upward incline, assessing his chances of a jab at its face. Perhaps sensing this, the reptile regards him warily. Its movements suggest to Bruce a primeval, survival-oriented instinct, but its eyes seem to suggest a more profound intelligence. He keeps this in mind in order to predict its actions more accurately.

Her spiked whip drawn, the Cat Woman is creeping swiftly in a wide arc around the monster in a bid to attack it from behind. It is a risky bid, he thinks, since she is putting herself between it and a fast, deep river, with prospects of escape on either side limited by the thick foliage. Bruce feints with his boomerang, attempting to draw the monster's attention. It snaps its jaws at him, readying itself to climb the incline and maul him.

It leaps, and Bruce dives to the right and down the incline, narrowly missing a powerful swipe by its claw. It is a significant drop, and he rolls when he lands and whirls to face it. He hurls his boomerang at its feet, and it loses its footing and rolls down the hillside, snarling inhumanly. He draws another boomerang and leaps at it, plunging the boomerang down with both hands toward its throat.

But the monster is faster than he expected, and it rolls to its feet, knocking him from the air with its muscular tail. The wind momentarily knocked from him, he hastily raises his hands in a defensive posture, keenly aware that it will be of little help against the giant.

Seeing his peril, the Cat Woman chooses this moment to strike. Her whip wraps around one of its arms, and she pulls herself towards it with blinding speed, plunging her claw into the side of its neck. Roaring, it rises to its full height of more than two metres, lifting her off her feet. Her claw still lodged in its neck, she uses its momentum to swing herself onto its back. On his feet now, he grabs his combat boomerang and approaches it, hoping either to take advantage of its distraction.

Blood is pouring from the monster's neck, but Bruce cannot tell if it has even noticed its wound. Without paying him any heed, it charges backwards, and Bruce's gut clenches in terror as it impacts hard against the unyielding tree with the Cat Woman in between. He can hear the sickly sound of snapping bones under her scream.

Enraged, he bellows and charges forward, but the monster sees him and knocks him aside with its arm. He rolls towards the river, but stops himself and climbs to its feet in time to see it charging toward him.

In the split-second before it reaches him, he refocuses his thoughts and crouches low. It lunges too high, and using his entire body, he heaves it toward the deep river. Its momentum carries it in head-first, and he digs the scallops on his gauntlet into the ground to stop himself from being plunged in with it.

The current is fast, and the monster has now lost enough blood to weaken it. It struggles to reach the shore, but soon plunges below the surface. Blood darkens the water, and one of the monster's arms reaches frantically out of the river. He sees several carnivorous fish clinging to it by their jaws.

The current pulls the once-mighty reptile down the river to its doom, but Bruce is already running to the Cat Woman's side. She is lying unconscious at the base of the tree in a pool of blood. Her pulse is light, her breathing ragged. He can see that her leather armour is torn at her lower back, and there is blood pouring out. With shaking hands, he struggles to loosen the breastplate of his armour. He tears his shirt into a wide strip and tries to bandage the wound.

"What are you doing?" comes a child's voice from behind him. In his haste to help the Cat Woman, he had not heard her approach.

He turns his head. The small girl is staring at him, her wide eyes black as night.

"I have to help her," he says anxiously.

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault that this happened." He fastens the bandage tightly. Almost inaudibly, the Cat Woman groans.

She looks at him quizzically. "Why did you fight the Croc?"

"It was going to kill you." He is paying little attention to her, his mind racing. He fears the Cat Woman has broken ribs, probably internal bleeding. He swallows hard, knowing there is nothing he can do to prevent – _No, _he thinks. _It can't end here! Not so soon!_

"But why did you try to stop him?"

Turns to her and snaps, "I wasn't going to stand by and let you die, alright? Maybe I should have!"

She steps back, her lip quivering. He glares at her for a moment, then returns his attention to the Cat Woman. He hardly even knew this quiet, mysterious woman…

"If you want to help her, take her to the Mother," the girl whispers.

He turns to her again. "What?"

"The mother will know what to do." She points to the river. "There's a boat that will take you to her."

He looks. There is a raft floating in the river. It is made of branches, leaves, and vines, and seems more to have grown naturally than to have been made. He is certain that it was not there a moment ago.

"Who is the Mother?" he asks her cautiously. "Are you sure she can help?"

The girl nods. "She can do anything. She's a goddess."

He turns his attention back to the Cat Woman. _At this point,_ he thinks, _what is there to lose?_ Slowly, gently, he lifts her up, cradling her damaged frame in his arms. The elfin girl leads him to the raft, and he lays the Cat Woman down and sits beside her.

"This raft will lead you to her," the girl tells him as the raft starts to drift down the river, seemingly of its own accord. "She will know what you have done here."

This sounds to Bruce more like a warning than anything else. He watches the strange girl on the riverbank as the raft moves slowly away. She seems to disappear before his eyes, melting into the smeary greenness that is the rain forest.

***

He tries to meditate as the raft winds its way through the seemingly endless forest, but his mind drifts continuously to the ragged figure lying beside him.

She had been waiting for him yesterday at dawn, as she had said. Neither Gordon nor Alfred cared much for the idea of him travelling with the former scourge of Arkham, but Bruce had made clear that the topic was not open to debate; he had no reason to doubt her sincerity, and in any case, it was better to keep friends close and enemies closer.

Their day-long journey together was largely a silent one, since neither of them cared much for small talk. She had been curious about his origins, but he could scarcely offer much of interest there. When asked about hers, she had been parsimonious with details and spoke in a guarded, formal way, but he gathered that Gordon had been correct in assuming she had been trained by the League of Shadows. She had left the League, and they now wanted her dead; perhaps this is the reason for her grudge against the Shadow King.

That had been the extent of their conversation. He does not even know her name, he thinks, gazing at her broken, motionless body.

"That's how you like 'em best, isn't it?" a voice says over his shoulder. "Fragile, vulnerable, depending on you for their very existence?"

He turns. The Joker is reclining at the front of the raft.

"If you don't leave now," Bruce says darkly, "I'll feed you to the river fish."

"Oh, come on. We both know you can't get rid of me that way."

He glares at the clown. "What do you want?"

"Well, as you know, I'm a great lover of jokes. Something of a connoisseur." He exaggerates the pronunciation of the last word. "And you know, I've seen a great one today. Would-be hero hears cry of child in distress. Against the better judgement of his partner, hero fights monster to save child. Partner is mortally wounded in fight to save child, who, as it turns out, might not even be real! The comedy! The tragedy! Isn't it rich? Isn't it –"

Almost involuntarily, Bruce lunges at the Joker, seizing him by the throat with one hand and savagely pounding his face with the other. "Let's see you smile after this," he growls.

His eyes bulging, blood pouring from every orifice in his face, the Joker frantically points over Bruce's shoulder. He turns just in time to see the Cat Woman rolling toward the edge of the raft, which is nearly capsizing as a result of his assaulting of the Joker. Frantically, he releases the Joker and catches the Cat Woman at the raft's edge.

"Ho ho ho. He he he. Ha ha ha," the Joker laughs mirthlessly, licking at the blood on his broken face. "Well, I know when I'm not wanted. The Joker can take a hint. But since no matter what you do, the people you care about will always get hurt –"

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Bruce roars.

"– I look forward to many humorous encounters in the future. Ciao!" The bloodied jester dives backwards off the raft into the river. Bruce does not bother to look into the water to see where he goes. He focuses on the Cat Woman. _I nearly lost her completely, _he thinks, _because I could not control my anger._

And he knows that the Joker is right, right about everything. But he does not allow himself to admit it. He returns to the lotus position and keeps his mournful vigil as the raft winds its course down the river.

***

The raft drifts into a clearer section of the rain forest. Thick green grasses interspersed with deliriously coloured flowers cover the gently undulating terrain. Enormous trees stand solemnly throughout the clearing, providing a dense canopy through which hazy golden sunlight streams. The air is thick with the fragrances of pollen and alive with insects of every kind. Somewhere in Bruce's mind, he notes that this is the most beautiful place he has ever seen, but in his grief he cannot appreciate it.

The raft drifts gently to the riverbank and stops. For a moment, there is nothing but the cries of the forest birds and the buzzing insects. Then he sees her, and his heart nearly stops.

She is tall, thin, and seemingly ageless. Like the girl in the tree, her naked skin is pale green, her hair is all the colours of autumn, and her eyes are black as the void. She walks gracefully towards him, followed by a strange, deformed man seemingly made of clay. Bruce watches her silently, cradling the Cat Woman in his arms.

"Who are you," she asks in a hypnotic voice, "who brings violence against my son, the king of reptiles?"

He answers, "I am a traveller. I fought the monster to protect an innocent from violence –"

"There was no violence in this place, and no innocence. There is only nature. Violence is intention." She glowers at him.

"Please," he begs her, "my travelling companion is dying. Are you the Mother of this place?"

She nods. "I am Ivy, mother of the wood, goddess of the realm of the living. Because you have sought me out, I will return your companion to life, even despite what you have done. Bring her to me."

Gently, Bruce lifts the Cat Woman into his arms, carries her slowly from the raft and lays her in the grass before Ivy, who kneels and kisses her softly on the lips. Slowly, the Cat Woman's breathing quickens, and vines begin to grow beneath her, twisting around and enveloping her prone, damaged body in a green cocoon. The cocoon rises up until it is about a metre from the ground, supported by thick green stalks. Flowers emerge from the cocoon, attracting some nearby butterflies.

"There she shall remain until her wounds are healed and her health is restored," Ivy says. The clay man is behind her, watching with interest.

Bruce bows his head. "I'm deeply in your debt, my lady. If I can repay it, tell me how, and I will."

Folding her arms across her breasts, she says, "For the moment, there is nothing you can offer me. You may stay in my garden. You will find all that you need within. But do not take more than you need, and commit no further violence within my realm."

She turns and walks away. The clay man stares at Bruce a moment longer with strange, milky eyes, and then shambles after Ivy.

Bruce sighs a deeps sigh of relief and sits next to the cocoon. He imagines that he can hear the Cat Woman breathing within. _I've been lucky today,_ he thinks. _I nearly lost her._

He lies on the soft grass and stares at the canopy overhead. It seems to swirl before his eyes. He blinks heavily, inhaling the intoxicating perfumes of the garden, and soon falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

When he opens his eyes, the clay man is standing over him, staring inquisitively.

Bruce starts, raising his arms in a defensive stance. The clay man jumps backwards and says in a gravelly voice, "Don't hurt me!"

He sits up, facing the earthy figure. His body is grey and grainy, and seems to flow when he moves. His eyes are sunken, his face featureless, with a mouth that leaves strands of muck when it opens and closes. He asks the clay man, "What are you?"

"My name is Hagen," he says. "What is your name?"

"Bruce."

"Believe it or not, Bruce," he says quietly, "I was once a man like you. An adventurer. I came here in search of the treasures of a lost city."

Bruce narrows his eyes. "What happened to you?"

Hagen looks nervously from side to side. "It was _her._ She trapped me here."

"Ivy?"

"Shh! She has ears everywhere!"

_This has to be some kind of trick,_ Bruce thinks. "Trapped you here?"

"Yes! I know what you must be thinking. You're thinking this is paradise. You're thinking Ivy is the most beautiful woman who ever lived, and all you want to do is take her in your arms and –"

"Hagen," Bruce says firmly, conscious that this may be a test from Ivy, "what's your point?"

Hagen opens and closes his mouth with a smacking sound. "Well, that's all what I thought, too. I thought I'd stumbled upon paradise, too, and Ivy – well, she wanted me to be her companion. And of course I said yes. And we made love. Oh, so many times…"

The thought of this disgusting creature even touching the goddess makes Bruce's stomach turn, but he says nothing.

"Anyway, it was all a lie! The whole time, she was draining me! She made me like this! She… _she was digesting me_!"

_Could he be telling the truth?_ Bruce wonders. _It's all so beautiful. It does seem too good to be true…_

"And so you're warning me?"

"Yes!" Hagen says. "And I'm asking you to come with me. I'm going to escape!"

"I can't," Bruce tells him, putting a hand on the cocoon.

Hagen looks at it, then says, "We'll take her with us! She should be fine; it's been almost a whole day. She'd heal fast. But we have to take her, too, because otherwise Ivy won't let us leave. It's our only chance!"

_Almost a whole day?_ Bruce looks at the canopy. Indeed, it was evening when he arrived, and the sun is nearly directly overhead. _But how…_

"So, will you come with me? We need to go now, before she realizes!"

Bruce pauses. If Hagen is lying, he thinks, escaping with him could invoke Ivy's wrath. _Who knows what she's capable of_, he thinks. Then again, if he does nothing and Hagen is telling the truth, he could be trapped here forever with Ivy and the Cat Woman. The concept somehow does not seem unappealing.

He looks at the cocoon. _Last time I took a chance, she paid the price,_ he realizes. To the anxious Hagen, he says, "No. I'm staying here."

"You can't!" Hagen exclaims. "You'll regret it! You'll –"

"Hagen!" a female voice echoes through the garden. The clay man whirls to see Ivy emerging from the woods, anger emanating from her perfect features.

"Mistress!" he says. "I was… I was just…"

He falls to his knees before the goddess, who says accusingly, "Are you so jealous of me, Hagen, that you would sooner lead them away than share my garden?"

"It's not that, mistress!"

"Fool! You talk of escaping; how many times have you begged to be with me? You know that you may leave anytime at your will by eating of the pomegranate!"

Hagen whines, "I know, mistress, but…"

Something glows within her eyes, and a powerful wind shakes the trees and draws a cloud across the sun. "Did you want to spare them your fate? For a hundred summers you have dwelt with me here, but now, in the autumn of your life, you seek escape? Was it such a wretched time for you?"

"Mistress…"

"If you wish to leave, go now! I tire of you." She folds her arms, regarding him scornfully.

"I… I don't want to go, mistress! I need you! Please, don't make me leave!" He falls on his face.

She points a long finger at him and says, "Your time is over, Hagen!" And he screams, and his scream becomes a gurgle as he disintegrates. Soon, only a shapeless pile of clay remains. Bruce looks on in muted horror, saying nothing in case she turns her wrath on him.

Ivy turns to him. "A pitiable man," she tells him. "He was like you once, you know; bold and reckless, possessed by misguided notions of greatness. Ultimately, he could not accept that his time had come."

He looks at the clay, wondering how much of what Hagen had told him was true. "So he was your consort?"

She steps closer to him, and her heady scent fills his nostrils. "I take many lovers," she tells him, pressing herself against him. "The bounties of nature are there for those who will partake of them."

Struggling against delirium, he steps back, understanding dawning belateldly. "That's why I'm here, isn't it? Your old mate was going to die, and you need a new one!"

She puts her hand on his face. Her touch is electric, and he half-heartedly draws back. "Yes," she whispers, "I did lure you here. You fascinate me. You are a stranger to this land."

Glancing at the cocoon, he stammers, "I… I can't…"

"You care so much for this one without even knowing her name?" She pauses, smiling wryly. "It is no matter. She can remain with us. She will be one with us. Does that excite you?"

_It does very much_, he thinks, staring into the blackness of her eyes. Her nearness is overwhelming. Struggling, he manages, "The Shadow King… I must bring justice and freedom to Gotham…"

"Justice?" she mocks. "You are so like the one you seek to destroy. And from what could you want freedom? One day with me will bring you more happiness than a thousand out there in the land of the dead."

She rests her arms on his shoulders, crossing them behind his head, and kisses him deeply, tasting sweet as the most succulent fruit. Powerless to resist, he returns her kiss.

"Remove your armour," she commands, and he hastily disrobes, then kisses her again, caressing her perfect body. He lays her down in the grasses, and she begins to sing. It is a wordless song, but he understands it nonetheless. She sings of the sea and the sun, and their love which brought forth the life which grows upon the earth. She sings of a damaged, broken city of glass and steel whose inhabitants owned the world, but traded it all for a perfect garden; of a lowly herd-maiden given the power of life itself. She sings of the anaconda sliding into the river, of the hummingbird tasting the nectar of the new blossom, of the insect drawn into the pitcher-plant to die. She sings of the healing rain falling upon the land and among the trees; of the lost orphan-boy finally released from his pain. She sings the contours of the land, the vicissitudes of the sky, the depths of the sea, the passion of the fire. She sings of the lightning, the wild hurricane, the primal, terrible, beautiful struggle for life. And she sings the flood which comes from on high and dissolves all the world into ecstatic nothingness.

***

Days come and go, each one hardly even entering Bruce's consciousness. Living in the garden with Ivy is pure bliss. He can sense the vitality of the garden; it is like an energy that surrounds and embraces him. There are delicious fruits all around, and hearty vegetables; dates and honey are only a tree-climb away. Ivy has him tending the garden now, and the simple act of nurturing living things and seeing them grow gives him more joy than he had ever thought possible. He even witnessed the hatching of an egg from which a tiny, delicate version of the reptile monster crawled forth!

"In the land of the living, all things are made new again," Ivy had said – beautiful, radiant Ivy with her welcoming eyes. Each time they consummate their union is better than the last. Bruce smiles to himself, thinking of her verdant scent, her blissful embrace.

He walks along the riverside, reflecting on his happy condition. Yes, he was truly fortunate that Ivy saw fit to bring him here. He does not dream of dark cities and moon-bats anymore, nor does the Joker intrude upon his life. He does not even feel the need to meditate anymore. _Why do I need the bliss of Samadhi_, he thinks, _when I have found true happiness here?_

He knows, of course, that someday he will be like Hagen, weak and drained of vitality. Somehow, though, this does not bother him. _Death is inevitable_, he thinks, _so why not enjoy paradise while I am living?_

If there is one thing he misses from his old life, it is companionship. True, he has Ivy, but she is often aloof and distant. This is no surprise, he thinks; what has a man to talk about with a goddess? He thinks of Alfred and Gordon, and half-wonders whether he should return to Arkham and bring them here.

Then there is the Cat Woman. He wanders to the cocoon, wondering if she is finally ready to emerge. As if reading his mind, Ivy is already there beside it.

"You are lonely," she observes.

He nods. "I'd like a companion to share my joys with."

Something like uncertainty crosses her face momentarily. "As have many of my consorts. It is something that I have never fully understood. Am I not companionship enough?"

"You are the joy of my life," Bruce assures her. "Even if I only had you, I would still be happier than if I had everything else in the world. It's just… it would be nice to have human contact now and then."

She nods. "Perhaps that is something I can no longer understand. But let us wake her." She lays a hand on the cocoon, and it stirs, and the vines begin to fall away, revealing the Cat Woman, healthy and naked. Bruce is surprised; it is the first time he has seen her without her armour. She is pale, with a lithe body, small breasts, and short, wavy black hair. Her features are striking, and she seems to glow, possibly as a result of Ivy's healing.

"Arise," Ivy whispers, and the Cat Woman opens her green eyes. Disoriented, she looks first at Ivy, then Bruce, then herself. Confused, she ventures, "Why are we all naked?" Meeting his eyes, she asks, "Dream Knight?"

It is a name that he had all but forgotten. He tells her, "We are in Ivy's garden, in paradise."

Shocked, she stammers, "Am… am I dead?"

He smiles. "No. You were hurt fighting the reptile king, but she restored your health."

She sits up, covering her breasts with one arm, and notices her armour rolled up in the cocoon by her feet.

"There is no need for that in here, my daughter," Ivy tells her. "There are no secrets among us here."

Uncomfortable, she looks at Bruce. "What's going on?"

He smiles reassuringly. "I've found real happiness, and I want to share it with you."

She climbs out of the cocoon. "What are you talking about?" Then, looking at Ivy again, her eyes widen. "Ohh… you! I know who you are! You're the Siren of the Wood! You're the one they call Poison Ivy!"

Ivy smiles. "I am known by many names."

Looking back at Bruce, "Dream Knight, we need to get out of here!"

"Why?" he asks, confused by her distress.

"Because people get trapped in here and are never heard from again!" She purses her lips. "The child in the woods! It was all a trap to lure us in here!"

He walks toward her. "Call it what you like. I've found more joy here than I've ever known. Why would I want to leave?"

She scowls. "But the Shadow King! You are the Dream Knight. Don't forget your destiny!"

"What's destiny?" Questions begin to appear in his mind. _No,_ he thinks, _I can never return to the realm of the dead._

She points at Ivy. "This witch is controlling your mind. Fight it!"

Ivy regards her with a knowing smile. "I have cast no magic upon him, my daughter. I have given him everything he has ever wanted. And I can do the same for you."

"I doubt that." She folds her arms, staring defiantly at the goddess.

"Do you? Tell me, daughter, what is it that you desire? Riches? Power? Lovers? Companionship? You can have all of these things here and more."

"I desire revenge," the Cat Woman declares. "Revenge against the Shadow King."

Ivy frowns, and the garden darkens. "Then there is no place for you in my garden."

Bruce approaches the Cat Woman, saying, "Think about what you're doing. We can have happiness here! That's what I want for us."

"That's what you want?" she says scornfully. "You'd turn your back on Gotham, and run from your destiny? I didn't think you were such a coward."

Bruce feels as if he has been struck. Ivy says, "Your honour and shame do not impress me, and I laugh at your notions of good and evil. Do not be fooled by these, Bruce; they are constructs of the land of the dead."

Agitated, Bruce looks between the two women. He longs desperately to be with Ivy, wants nothing more than to feel her touch once more, but somehow the words of the Cat Woman stir something deep within him. Somehow, without justice, without good and evil, his very existence seems hollow.

"Can you really have happiness at the expense of the people of Gotham?" the Cat Woman asks him, her words cutting deep.

"No," he forces himself to say, wanting to scream _Yes!_ "I am the Dream Knight, and I must fulfill my destiny."

Ivy looks disdainfully at them. "Very well," she says. "Then take of the fruit of the dead, and go to the river. You will leave this place and never return."

The remains of the cocoon change into a tree, and from the tree, two pomegranates grow. The Cat Woman takes one of them and bites into it. Bruce stares at Ivy desperately. It is all he can do not to cry to her, to beg her to allow him to stay.

She says to him, "Your curse shall be the memory of this place, of what you had and lost. Know that you will one day make this decision again, and it will be no less painful to you." To the Cat Woman, "And you do not know what you are rejecting. It is better to be a slave in the land of the living than a queen in the realm of the dead."

His hand shaking, Bruce takes the pomegranate and eats it. It tastes vile to him, and he can no longer feel the vitality of the garden. The tree withers and splits open, revealing his mirrored armour and boomerangs. It shines as if new, and the shirt he tore is whole once again.

When he looks back, Ivy is gone. The garden feels cold, and he shivers. The Cat Woman is already donning her armour. Sadly, he does the same.

"Let's get out of here," she says to him. "This place bothers me."

He cannot bring himself to reply to her, and leads her silently to the river, keeping his eyes to the ground so he does not see the beauty of the garden. The raft is on the riverbank, and a wizened old crone sits on it, holding a wooden paddle. She has the same green skin and black eyes as Ivy, but her hair is brown, like dead leaves. She says nothing as they climb onto the raft.

The crone begins to row, and somehow they are moving swiftly upstream. Bruce allows himself one last look into the garden as they go. He feels as though his heart is being torn from his chest. There are tears in his eyes, and he forces himself to close them, knowing that he will never look upon paradise again.

***

They make the trip up the river in silence; the Cat Woman can sense his anguish, he guesses, and says nothing. He breathes slowly and recites mantras over and over again, struggling to erase from his mind the memory of lying in the green with Ivy.

The raft moves with unnatural speed against the current, and soon the forest begins to thin and the stars can be seen through the canopy. Finally, the crone speaks.

"From here you may walk to the mountains, for they are less than a day away. Follow the old road, and you will soon find the wandering exile you seek."

"Our thanks to you," Bruce says softly.

The crone continues, "Know this: none can leave the Northlands without the permission of the old man of the mountains, the cryomancer known as Grandfather Freeze. You must also seek him, and he does not bargain easily."

"We will seek him as well."

"Here, Dream Knight, take this. It is a gift from Ivy." She holds a folded piece of multicoloured cloth. He accepts and unfolds it. It is a cape made of a dense, silken material, mottled with deep greens, reds, and golds.

"This will protect you from the heat of the flame and the chill of the arctic wind," she tells him. "But it will also serve to remind you of what you left behind."

He stares into the crone's eyes; they are Ivy's eyes. She then turns to the Cat Woman, saying, "For you, woman with the heart of the solitary jaguar, there is nothing."

The Cat Woman's lips are tight, and she stands and climbs onto the riverbank. They are now in an open field just outside of the wood. In the distance, the mountains are black against the night sky, and a dirt road stretches out towards them.

Bruce disembarks from the raft and dons the cape. The crone turns the raft and paddles back downstream, disappearing into the depths of the rain forest. He stares after her for a long moment before feeling a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," the Cat Woman says, "I know that must have been hard for you."

There is a warmth to her that was absent before, a change in her way of speaking to him. He turns to her, saying, "I'll get over it. I'll just need time."

She smiles at him, and he realizes it is something he has never seen on her before. "I heard her call you Bruce. Is that your name?"

"Yes," he says softly.

"Mine is Selina. I guess we've seen each other without our masks now, and without our armour." She glances at his body.

Bruce manages a smile. "I guess we have."

"Listen," she says, "I'm sorry about calling you a coward back there. Leaving that behind takes more courage than I…"

"It's fine," he interrupts her, not wanting his mind to return to that place. "You said what you had to say. I understand. I should have listened to you in the first place and not gone into the woods."

"Well, we're both here now." She pauses for a moment, and he stares into her eyes. They are green as the garden, green as paradise.

Then she looks away. "Come on, we should go. I know that there's an abandoned farmhouse near the mountains that some of my old gang are using. We can get shelter and provisions there before we enter the Northlands."

"Lead the way," he tells her.

They walk down the road. The pain of separation from Ivy is intense, but he can feel it slowly receding like the forest behind them.

_Maybe Ivy was wrong,_ he thinks, staring at the woman walking before him. _Maybe I will know paradise again._

A chill wind blows from the mountains looming before them in the night.


	4. Cryostasis

**Dream Knight, Chapter 4. Here we will delve more deeply into the relationship between Bruce and Selina, and meet a new character. It could be construed as a crossover, but I think these characters are pretty important to each other's lives. There will also be a ninja fight, and we'll meet a version of Mr. Freeze.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters.**

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 4: Cryostasis**

_your slightest look easily will enclose me_

_though i have closed myself as fingers,_

_you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens_

_(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose_

_or if your wish to be close me,i and_

_my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,_

_as when the heart of this flower imagines_

_the snow carefully everywhere descending;_

_- e. e. cummings,_

"_somewhere i have never travelled"_

The wind makes a low howling sound as it blusters between the mountain peaks. It is a low, foreboding sound, but Bruce, the Dream Knight, is not afraid.

The night is coming, the second night since he and Selina have been in the mountains of the Northlands, with no sign of the mysterious exile, Ra's al-Ghul. The Northlands are vast and mostly impassable, and to seek one man within the crags, Bruce realizes, is nothing short of suicidal. Still he is not afraid.

_Death,_ he thinks, _would stop me thinking about Ivy._

He has struggled with the pain in the days since he was wrenched from paradise. Sometimes it is stronger, sometimes weaker, but it is always with him, and Ivy is there every time he closes his eyes.

Travelling with Selina has helped. Indeed, were it not for her company, Bruce knew he would not be able to go on. He is fascinated by her. There had been a moment, just after they had escaped from the forest, when he had felt she was opening up to him and finally told him her name, but now she is the professional again, and has consistently evaded his questions about her life. Luckily, he has been able to engage her in conversation about her fighting techniques. He learned that she had joined the League of Shadows in its previous, more benevolent incarnation, the Justice League, and had been trained by the martial arts masters of that group, including the Shadow King. From them she had learned discipline of the mind, body, and qi, and had been taught techniques which were very similar to the ones he used. Indeed, she was convinced that he had been a part of the Justice League himself, before he had lost his memory – a distinct possibility, he thinks, although their styles are different enough to make him sceptical.

_Selina._ He spends much of his time thinking about this complex, mysterious woman, especially since he can no longer summon the focus necessary for meditation, and since it is only when he is thinking of her that he is not thinking of Ivy. She is attractive, to be sure; he had seen her naked in the garden and had observed her graceful movements in the intimate dance of combat. But the thought of sexuality is a painful one, and his body still longs for Ivy's touch. Still, he is captivated by her, and finds himself anxious for her return as he walks alone down the mountain path.

Someone is approaching behind him, almost completely silent. He turns to face her.

"You were right," Selina tells him, falling in step beside him and catching her breath. "We are being followed. Three League assassins on horseback. They'll overtake us in ten minutes or less. Did you find a good place to set up an ambush?"

He shakes his head. "There's no cover anywhere here, but the path narrows just around the next bend. It's a steep drop, and the horses would only be able to go single file."

"They'll come at us on foot, then, rather than risk such an awkward charge," Selina muses. "If they've been tracking us, they'll know there are two of us. Still, even if there's no cover, we might be able to do an ambush of sorts." They follow the path as it bends around a steep cliff face, and the ground on the other side drops off into a deep ravine. The path is about a metre wide, but soon widens to a span of three metres, still with the steep mountainside on the right and a sharp drop on the left.

"Afraid of heights?" Bruce asks wryly as they leave their supply packs down the path.

"I always land on my feet," she replies, examining the mountainside. She pauses at a small cranny between two large rocks at the level of the path. "Here we are. You draw their attention; I'll hide in here and surprise them."

He regards the narrow cranny, and begins, "You can't…"  
Then she is crouched between the rocks, completely motionless, her black armour looking like nothing if not a shadow. She faces him and grins.

"Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. You're like a walking mirror; try to keep their attention focused on you."

He begins to protest at being used as a distraction, but hears the sound of approaching hooves and falls silent, drawing his largest boomerang.

The assassins ride around the bend, stopping before the narrowing path. They are clad all in black, wearing armour, heavy capes, and cowls with long horns that point upwards. They have the same scalloped gloves as Bruce and Selina, and are mounted upon jet-black horses. Something about their appearance resonates deeply within Bruce, calling to mind the great bat which haunts his dreams.

"You are the one called the Dream Knight," the lead assassin addresses him, his voice rough.

"I am," Bruce answers.

"The Shadow King has bid us to bring you to him. You may surrender to us, or else we will kill you and bring him your body, for he has no preference."

Calmly, he tells them, "I will meet your master, but not in chains."

"Then you will die," the assassin says, dismounting from his horse. He draws a pair of nunchaku from his belt and approaches with one in each hand, and his comrades do the same. Bruce advances toward the bottleneck of the pass, his boomerang in a defensive position, forcing the assassins to come at him in single file. He locks eyes with the lead assassin, who has been glancing behind him. _He knows Selina is here somewhere_, Bruce observes.

Almost before Bruce can react, the assassin strikes, his nunchaku whipping forward. Bruce deflects the unpredictable weapon with his gauntlet and holds his boomerang low in time to block the second attack, for which the first had been a distraction. The assassin draws back and Bruce moves forward, their movements and qi synchronized.

Bruce shifts his boomerang to his left hand. He is nearly ambidextrous, and briefly wonders whether this is a natural condition or the product of training. He feints, attempting to drive a wedge between the assassin and the mountainside so that the assassin's back is to the chasm. Sensing this, his opponent lunges at him with both nunchaku, and he raises his boomerang to block them. They wrap around his weapon, and the force of the assassin's attack brings him close enough to Bruce's face that he can feel his breath. The assassin shifts his weight suddenly, and Bruce seizes upon his moment of imbalance to push forward hard, attempting to force his opponent off the edge of the cliff.

Too late, Bruce realizes his mistake as the assassin drops low and throws Bruce, using the force of his push against him. He throws his weight to one side and narrowly manages to avoid being thrown off the mountain, landing in a crouch at the edge of the path. Unfortunately, he is now on the bottleneck with assassins on both sides. He focuses his thoughts and breathing as the second assassin strikes, and raises his arm at the last possible moment, catching his attacker's nunchaku on the scallops of his gauntlet. In one smooth movement, he pulls the nunchaku from the assassin's hand, catches one of the sections in his hand, and whirls around to parry an attack from the first assassin. Their nunchaku wrap around each other, and Bruce drops backwards, throwing the entangled nunchaku backwards at the second assassin, who deflects them into the ravine.

Not wasting a precious moment, Bruce leaps to his feet to face the first assassin, and slashes with his boomerang at the assassin's knees. The assassin leaps, dodging Bruce's attack, but Bruce is already charging forward. To avoid being run off the mountainside, the assassin catches Bruce and allows his momentum to carry him past. Bruce frees himself from the assassin's grip, now on the wider side of the path with all three assassins in the bottleneck once more.

"You are a skilled fighter," the assassin says, holding his remaining nunchaku with both hands in a defensive position. "But you are no match for the assassins of the League of Shadows."

"We'll see about that," Bruce replies, waiting for an opening to attack.

Suddenly, the assassin crouches, and the second assassin charges forward and vaults over him, flipping in mid-air and landing on his feet before Bruce. He backs away, ceding enough ground for the two assassins to stand side by side, and they approach him, spinning their nunchaku to drive him back even further. The third assassin waits behind them.

_Just a little farther,_ Bruce thinks as he passes the rocks where Selina is waiting. The first assassin vaults over one of the rocks and lands behind Bruce, who is once again surrounded.

Trusting in Selina, Bruce charges at the first assassin, leaving himself open for an attack from behind. The second assassin attempts to take advantage of the opening, but as he comes at Bruce, Selina springs from her hiding place at the assassin, taking him completely by surprise and knocking him off the path. Bruce hears a scream, which is silenced by a sickening crunch.

The first assassin's eyes widen in surprise, and Bruce swings his boomerang forward. The assassin raises his arm, shielding it with the shafts of his nunchaku, and blocks it. Forcing the nunchaku to one side, Bruce raises his other arm and drives his elbow at the assassin's face. Hurriedly, the assassin blocks Bruce's attack with his forearm, and Bruce feels the splintering of his opponent's bone. The assassin does not flinch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce sees Selina locked in combat with the third assassin. His moment of distraction allows his adversary an opportunity, and he drops his nunchaku and grabs at Bruce's face. Caught off guard, Bruce catches the assassin's arm, and the assassin drives his knee into Bruce's solar plexus. Stars erupt in his vision as he gasps for breath, struggling not to collapse under the pain. The assassin charges forward, and Bruce desperately drives his boomerang upwards through a soft spot in the assassin's armour beneath his breastplate and into his flesh. The assassin clutches the boomerang, drops to his knees, and falls onto the path.

Bruce leans against the side of the mountainside, winded. He sees Selina keeping the last assassin at bay using the greater range of her spiked whip. She seems to have already disarmed him, but is striking only at his limbs with her whip, confusing and frustrating her opponent and doubtless causing him a great deal of pain, although his face does not show it.

"What's the matter?" she taunts him. "Am I too much for you? Maybe your master should send a real warrior to kill me."

The assassin struggles to ward off the strikes of her whip, but to no avail. Sickened by this display of sadism, Bruce tries to call out to her to finish the job, but still can hardly breathe. He watches as the assassin attempts to charge him, and she coils the whip around his legs and pulls his feet out from under him. She springs at him, plunges her claw at his throat, and –

"Stop," comes a rich, authoritative voice from over Bruce's shoulder. Selina's blade is at the assassin's throat.

Bruce turns to see a tall man in a grey robe standing over the first assassin, who is still lying on the road, bleeding heavily. The man looks down at him and commands, "Rise."

Slowly, the assassin climbs to his feet, and his bleeding slows and stops. The stranger walks to Selina and beckons her, "Release him." Staring transfixed into his eyes, she obeys, and the assassin breathes deeply with relief. The first assassin helps his comrade to his feet, then turns to the stranger and says, "You healed me."

"No. You believed that you were healed, and you were healed," the stranger says. "Leave these mountains and do not return."

Bowing his head, the first assassin tells him, "We have failed, and have dishonoured the League of Shadows. Our lives are forfeit."

"Indeed," says the man in the robe. "Your lives have come to an end. Now you will begin new lives, lives of peace. You will find a new home somewhere on this island where you will not be recognized, and your master will think you are dead. And he will be right; three assassins of the League of Shadows died honourably here today."

They bow before him, then turn, mount their horses, and ride back from whence they came. The stranger turns to Bruce and Selina and asks them, "For what reason do you come to the Northlands?"

His breath returned, Bruce stands and says, "We seek the exile, Ra's al-Ghul."

The man removes his hood. He has short, jet-black hair, a strong, square jaw, and grey eyes from which Bruce cannot look away. He tells them, "You've found him."

"You're the one they call the Demon's Head?" Selina asks him, gaping.

"I am known by many names," he says. "That one was given to me as a curse by the Shadow King. But come quickly, the night is coming and you'll need shelter. There's a cave not far from here."

"If that is not your true name," Bruce asks, "what should we call you?"

"By my real name," the exile says, smiling a slightly lopsided grin. "Kal-el."

And the exile turns and walks down the path. Bruce and Selina take their packs and follow him. Selina turns to Bruce, but he does not meet her gaze.

***

They reach a plateau as the sun's last light dims. There are a series of caves in the cliff face on the far side, and Kal-el points to them and says, "I will find a suitable cave. See if you can find some firewood; you'll need the warmth."

He walks toward the caves, and Bruce crouches in front of a small mountain stream and cleans his bloodied combat boomerang. Selina sits beside him and asks, "What's wrong?"

He does not look at her. "I'm surprised by you, Selina."

"About the fight? Bruce, we were defending ourselves. They would have killed us."

He glares at her. "You went beyond that. You were toying with that man. I didn't think you were capable of that kind of cruelty."

"No?" Her green eyes flash with anger. "You don't know me very well, then."

"It seems that I don't." He returns to cleaning his boomerang.

She scowls. "Look, Bruce. I've been hunted by the League of Shadows for over two years now. Before that, I was in the dungeon of the Shadow King for almost a year. You'd weep if I told you about the things I experienced in there."

She is baiting him, and he knows it. "I see," he says. "So now you're going to cause the League as much pain as they caused you."

"How dare you judge me!" she growls. "You're an outsider. You have no idea about what the League is capable of. You just appeared one day and decided to fight the Shadow King! Who are you to pass judgement on me?"

Bruce clenches his jaw, marvelling at how efficiently she can cut him down. _Just like in the garden,_ he thinks. _She knows just what to say._

"Don't forget who you're dealing with," she continues after he says nothing. "I'm the Cat Woman, the scourge of Arkham. I'm a murderer."

He looks into her eyes again. "Yes," he says, "I forgot. You are a murderer. A murderer and a bully. I understand completely. You've been hurt, and now you dress all in black and wear a mask and go around terrorizing people. You want everyone to be afraid of you, to think you're so powerful, because you think that maybe," his voice wavers, "just maybe, if everyone around you thinks you're that strong, you might start believing it too."

Blinking back tears, she seizes him by the throat and forces him to the ground. He grabs her arm, trying to breathe, but her grip is tight.

"You aren't gathering firewood," Kal-el observes, standing above them and staring disapprovingly. Selina looks up at him sheepishly and releases Bruce, who gasps for air.

"Why don't you get it yourself?" Selina glowers.

The exile stoops down to a small, dry brush. He reaches to take it, and his hand passes through it.

_A ghost,_ thinks Bruce. "I see."

"So you understand that I'm not the one who will need the fire."

Selina walks away quickly, not looking at Bruce. He gently touches his bruised throat and then begins gathering kindling in the settling darkness.

***

Soon, the fire is roaring, and its light casts shadows on the cave walls of Selina and Bruce, but eerily, not Kal-el. Selina caught a rabbit, and they roast its meat over the fire and eat it. She does not speak to Bruce, or even meet his eye.

Breaking the silence, Bruce says to Kal-el, "You said you were cursed by the Shadow King."

"Yes, you must be curious. I'll explain as best I can, starting at the beginning." He grins tightly. "You see, I am originally from a higher plane of reality. I first came to this world millennia ago as a child, when this island was home to a great and mighty city called Metropolis. I was raised among humans, who gave me the human name of Clark Kent."

The grey eyes seem so familiar to Bruce; he knows he has seen them before, perhaps before losing his memory. He says nothing, listening.

"I soon came to love humans and their ways," Kal-el continues. "I became the champion of Metropolis, defending the city from threats within and without. The humans gave me a second name then. They called me Superman, for my heritage gave me powers greater than any human. But my greatest power has no alien origins. It was the power of the truth; the power to touch the human heart, to inspire it to goodness and righteousness. This power was instilled in me by my human parents, and with it, I guarded and defended Metropolis throughout its golden age, all the while living another life as the human Clark Kent, who worked hard, laughed much, and fell in love with a human woman, Lois Lane.

"Unfortunately, the golden age could not endure. There arose within Metropolis a man who resented me and what I represented. Desiring to be the sole ruler of this island, he began to turn people against me, convincing them that they cannot truly be free while I imposed upon them my rules and morality. He was truly my antithesis; appealing to their pride, their arrogance, their lower natures, he slowly began to win over the population. Eventually, he turned Metropolis away from me. But in doing so, he also turned the people away from their ideals, their dreams, and their common humanity. I could only watch, helpless, as Metropolis began to die. And it was at this time that I also lost my beloved."

There is a great sadness in his face now, and he pauses for a moment, then continues, "Time brings all human things to an end, but it has no hold over me. During Metropolis's last days, I had grown desperate, trying to save it however I could. I did not always embody the highest ideals during that time. But after its fall, I began anew. I swore an oath never to use violence again, and began to wander this island, defending against barbarism in whatever way I could. Soon the human imagination began to flourish once more, and a new city was built. This city was Gotham, and in it I saw even greater potential than Metropolis. I had learned from my mistake of trying to be the sole guardian of Metropolis, and with the man who would become the Shadow King, I founded the Justice League, an organization of men and women dedicated to the high ideals I once embodied in Metropolis."

He looks at Selina, but she is staring at the shadows on the walls of the cave.

"But decay set in to Gotham faster than I had anticipated. There were those who sought to sow chaos and strife in Gotham, and many within the Justice League desired harsh punishment against these rogues. I argued that only the people of Gotham could reject and defeat them, and it was our duty to inspire them to do so, but many of my partners within the League were confident in their ability to defeat the evildoers themselves using violence and fear. And so they rejected me, and transformed the Justice League into the League of Shadows. And the self-proclaimed Shadow King placed a curse upon me. He was able to do this because he knew my true name, which gave him power over me. He stripped me of my powers, my reputation, and even my corporeal form. He exiled me to the Northlands, where my heart was encased in ice, held by the master of this realm, Grandfather Freeze. All of my deeds were forgotten, and the people suddenly knew me only as the Demon's Head, a liar and vagabond."

"They forgot you completely," Selina muses.

"Yes," he says. "Even you, Selina."

Bruce looks at the two. "You know each other?"

Selina says nothing. Kal-el tells him, "She doesn't remember, but I took her from the streets of Gotham to be trained as a member of the Justice League. She stood by me during the schism within the League, and was imprisoned by the Shadow King as punishment."

"I… I remember now," Selina says slowly. "There was me, and Diana, and Bartholomew and Harold, and the Shadow King imprisoned us all… I couldn't remember any of it…"

"The cruellest thing about the Shadow King's dungeon was forgetting that there was ever a time when you were free," Kal-el says, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"So you lost your memory, too?" Bruce asks Selina incredulously.

"Parts of it," Selina says. "I managed to escape, and it started coming back to me, but there were gaps… but I remember now. Superman taking me in, the Shadow King's mutiny, everything." She pauses, looks into his eyes. "That's why I was drawn to you, you know. You were a fellow amnesiac. But with you, it was total… you were a blank slate, and were capable of being anything. I wanted you to be the Dream Knight, to make sure that's what you'd become."

Struck by her directness, Bruce's mind races. "Could my memory loss be connected to the Shadow King's curse as well?"

Kal-el narrows his eyes. "Possibly. I have to admit, I don't recognize you at all, and I'm not familiar with the legend of the Dream Knight. If I had my powers of heightened perception, I might be able to tell you."

"The prophecy of the Dream Knight comes from the Oracle," he says. "She told me you would know how to defeat the Shadow King."

"Interesting. Unfortunately, my curse prevents me from speaking certain truths – the Shadow King knew my powers well."

"Is there any way to get your powers back?" Bruce asks.

"Yes. As I said, my heart was given to Grandfather Freeze; if it can be thawed, my powers will return."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Bruce asks, mildly irritated.

Kal-el sighs. "I can't really explain any more clearly because of the curse – the Shadow King feared that if I could speak openly about such things, I would be able to convince passing travellers to help me recover my powers. However, I can take you to Grandfather Freeze. His fortress is less than a day's journey from here, and although I cannot enter it, I'm hopeful that you will be able to figure out what to do once you get there."

There is silence for a moment, then Bruce asks the question that has been on his mind since Arkham. "Who is the Shadow King?"

"He is darkness," Kal-el responds, staring into space. "He is a man who sought to use against evildoers their own subconscious fears – the night, the unknown, the supernatural. In doing so, he lost his own humanity to these forces, and made himself a living archetype, enslaved to the fears he sought to harness."

There is a long pause before Selina says, "We will defeat him. We will get your powers back from Grandfather Freeze, and you will help us defeat the Shadow King."

Bruce stares at her for a moment. After their altercation, he had not been sure whether she would continue with him, and it fills him with relief, but he does not allow his face to show it. "Yes," he says. "We will leave at dawn."

"Then get some rest," Kal-el tells them. "You will need it. Grandfather Freeze's fortress stands atop the highest mountain in the Northlands."

_Of course,_ Bruce thinks. _It can never be easy._

He removes his mask and armour, and spreads his bedroll on the softest part of the cave floor that he can find. His body aches from the day's fight, and it is only minutes before he begins to drift into unconsciousness.

"Bruce," Selina whispers. He opens his eyes, and she is there, crouched above him. She has removed her mask, and the dimming fire casts a glow upon her face. "Bruce, I'm so sorry about before… I lost control during the fight; I don't know what came over me. Bruce… I'm not a monster. Don't think I'm a monster."

He swallows. "We all have demons which drive us to do what we do. Selina, I need you. I can't go on without you."

She moves closer to him, and whispers, "Can I? I mean, it's cold, and I can't find any soft ground in this cave…"

"Of course," he says, trembling slightly despite himself. "Please." And she crawls onto his bedroll and lays on her side, facing away from him, and presses her body against his. He pulls his cape over them, and puts his arm around her. Her hair smells of dried sweat, which to Bruce is as sweet as the lilac scent of Ivy. Even through her armour, he can feel that she is warm, and her body moves gently with the rhythm of her breathing. He holds her close throughout the night, and her presence helps keep his mind free of the tendrils of the garden, and his dreams free of the gaze of the bat.

***

The next day is sunny, with relatively low wind, and they journey to the mountain Kal-el calls "Mount Solitude." With his help, they begin their ascent, travelling first up a glacial valley, then up a narrow ledge for a long while. With the aid of grappling hooks procured from Selina's bandit allies, they scale a series of rocky cliff faces, climbing ever higher. By midday, the weather turns for the worse, and a brief winter squall forces them into a mountain cave for nearly an hour, which affords them a small amount of rest.

Kal-el then guides them up the rest of the mountain amid a treacherous winter afternoon. The wind is fierce, and on more than one occasion Bruce and Selina are forced to huddle under his wind-repelling cape, waiting for it to die down so they can resume their climb. Bruce's muscles ache as they scramble across icy rocks, trudge through waist-deep snow, and scale sheer cliff faces.

By the end of the day, they reach the top of Mount Solitude. A crevasse splits the mountain's peak, and they venture within it. Inside, it is eerily silent, with the rock walls blocking the wind. One of the rock faces is made of a brilliant crystal which looks like nothing if not ice. In this cliff is the mouth of a cave.

"This is the entrance to the fortress," Kal-el tells them. "It was mine once, but now I cannot go inside. Be careful around Grandfather Freeze; he is both powerful and deeply troubled."

"What if we can't convince him to give you your heart back?" Bruce asks.

"Then I'll be forced to wander the Northlands forever, and you'll be on your own facing the Shadow King. And Freeze may be the ruler of this place, but he's also its prisoner. Trust me – it's in everybody's best interest for me to get my heart back. You just have to convince him of that."

Selina and Bruce look at each other, then Bruce says, "All right. I hope this works."

"Good luck," Kal-el says to them.

Bruce and Selina walk into the cave. The icy blue walls sparkle, reflecting the late afternoon sunlight inside the cave. There is a silence inside deeper than any Bruce has ever experienced.

"Magnificent," breathes Selina, her voice a reverential whisper, as they enter a vast, frigid chamber of crystal. Intricate, delicate formations protrude from the walls and ceiling, giving the impression of a room of glittering chandeliers. They stand on a wide area of level ground, which gives way in front of them to a deep, cavernous pit. It seems to Bruce that this entire side of the mountain's peak must be completely hollow, such is the size of this cave, and filled with the most beautiful crystals. In the back of the cave, sunlight streams in.

There is a crystal throne in front of the pit, with an old man in a pale blue robe sitting in it, facing them. He is covered with frost and icicles, and with one pale hand, he strokes a long, white beard that seems just as likely to be made of ice as hair. The man is bald, and his face is lined and craggy. Disturbingly, his eye sockets seem to be completely frozen over with opaque ice, making it impossible to tell if he is even aware of their presence. To his right is a large mass of frosted ice.

Bruce glances at Selina, then calls out, "Grandfather Frost!"

There is a crackling sound as the man shifts his position. In a crackling, brittle voice, he asks, "Who disturbs my tranquility?"

"The Dream Knight and the Cat Woman have come," Bruce says, his voice level. "We are here to retrieve the heart of Kal-el, which you possess."

Grandfather Freeze opens his mouth and breathes a gust of whiteness towards them. Bruce dives towards Selina, holding his cape in front of him as the cloud of bitter cold whips past. When it clears, he sees Selina frozen in place, turned away from Grandfather Freeze, her arm covering her face. Ice glitters on her armour, and her skin is pale and tinted blue.

"Selina!" he roars, then turns to Freeze. "What have you done?"

"I have saved her," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. "It is my gift to her and to you. I see that you have been given magical protection; it may have served you this time, but you cannot stand against my wrath. I know what you are trying to do, Dream Knight, and I will not allow it."

"Saved her?" Bruce shouts. "Saved her from what?"

"You are an agent of change, Dream Knight. You would change this world, and in doing so, you will lose it. Change will bring about the end of all things."

Bruce steps forward, still gripping his cape. More softly, he says, "What are you talking about?"

Crackling, Grandfather Freeze reaches over to the ice formation next to him. He wipes away the frost, and Bruce can see the silhouette of a person lying within. A woman.

"This is my beloved. I have saved her just as I saved your companion. Your way brings only death and non-being, but here in this fortress, in this land of eternal winter, they live eternally. I have conquered death, defeated time itself; how can you hope to stand before me?"

Realization flashes through Bruce's mind, and he whispers, "Time brings all human things to an end, but it has no hold over me."

"What did you say?" Grandfather Freeze demands.

"I will defeat you," Bruce declares, walking toward him, "because I know your true name."

"No," Grandfather Freeze says softly.

"You are Kal-el. You are an immortal, but you are also Clark Kent, and you loved this woman, and couldn't accept her mortality."

"I have conquered death, defeated time itself," Grandfather Freeze repeats quietly.

"No," Bruce says, standing just in front of the throne. The old man radiates cold. "She's frozen here, neither living nor dead. All you've done is delayed the inevitable."

Something glows red beneath the ice covering Freeze's eyes. He stands, breaking ice that froze him to his chair, flakes of frost falling from his robe and skin. He takes a step towards Bruce, who steps back cautiously, clutching his cape.

"I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE HER FROM ME!" the superman roars, shattering the rest of the ice covering his body. Now he is young again, his face the same as the ghost's. His blue cloak billows, and in his grey eyes is a terrifying rage. Bruce backs swiftly away and silently recites a mantra, drawing his combat boomerang. With impossible speed, the corporeal Kal-el is upon him, knocking his boomerang from his hand. He seizes Bruce by his breastplate, lifts him above his head, and hurls him. Bruce slams shoulder-first into the wall by the entrance of the cave, blinding pain shooting through his body. Screaming, he realizes the bones in his left shoulder and arm have been shattered. He climbs to his feet in time to see Kal-el above him, his face twisted into a mask of rage. With an open palm, he strikes Bruce in the side of his face. His neck twists, and Bruce falls to the ground again, spitting out blood and teeth.

_I am going to die,_ he thinks, sputtering and nearly blinded by pain. Kal-el lifts him again and slams him against the wall. Bruce feels his knee twist at an unnatural angle and cries in agony. Kal-el then hurls him again, and he lands on the floor near the pit. He looks up in time to see a red glow in Kal-el's eyes, and shields his face with his good hand as a blast of heat sears his skin.

He falls to the ground, and Kal-el lifts Bruce once more by the breastplate. They are face to face now, and Bruce, fighting unconsciousness, manages to sputter, "I still have the advantage."

"What?" Kal-el snarls. "You can't even stand!"

Each breath brings excruciating pain, but Bruce continues, "I have a power greater than any of yours. The power of the truth. You can't overcome it even if you kill me." He coughs violently, spewing blood onto Kal-el's robe.

"No!" exclaims Kal-el, hurling Bruce to the ground. Darkness swirls across his vision, and he collapses, no longer able to fight it.

***

"Brucie!"

His eyes flutter, and he looks up to see a purple-clad figure standing over him.

"Brucie, get up," the Joker says. "It's time to go."

Cringing with agony, he climbs to his knees. They are in the fortress, but it is different. It is darker, and the colours in the walls are swimming.

"What do you want, Joker?" he manages.

The Joker kneels and stares into his eyes. "Bruce," he says with a seriousness Bruce has never heard in his voice, "I've talked to Ivy. She thinks you've suffered enough, and she's willing to let you back into the garden."

"You're lying," Bruce growls.

"No! Look!" The Joker points to the entrance of the cave. There is a soothing green light emanating, and he can see Ivy standing there, looking more beautiful than ever, beckoning him to come to her.

"She'll heal you," the Joker whispers. "She misses you, Bruce. She wants you to come back, to live your life by her side."

"This is a trick!" But Ivy is so real, he thinks. He wants nothing more than to go to her, to let her nurse him back to health. His body screams to him in pain, and his soul reaches for her.

"It's no trick. Your work here is done, Bruce. Kal-el will do the rest! You've convinced him to! Please, Bruce, just go with her, for both our sakes."

He stares into the Joker's eyes for a long moment, then says, slowly, mournfully, "No."

The Joker kicks him in the side, saying, "You certainly are a glutton for punishment." The colours continue to spin, washing over him, and he slides again into unconsciousness.

***

"Stand, Dream Knight," Kal-el says, hoisting him to his feet.

Bruce feels a soothing energy washing from the superman's hands. It spreads throughout his body, easing his pain and repairing his injuries. He feels the bones coalescing in his arm and chest, his leg righting itself, his teeth growing back. Then Kal-el releases him, and Bruce stands on his own, testing his muscles, clenching and unclenching his hand.

Kal-el turns to face the frozen Selina, and his eyes glow. She stirs, and the frost drips off of her. She faces them, confusion in her eyes.

Then Kal-el bellows, "Enter!"

And the ghost Kal-el is there, standing beside Selina, facing his corporeal twin.

"What just happened?" Selina asks, looking between Bruce and the two Kal-els.

"The Dream Knight reminded me what it is to be truly human," the corporeal Kal-el tells her. Anticipating her next question, he explains, "My beloved Lois reached the end of her life just as Metropolis was dying. To save her and Metropolis was more than I alone could handle, so I came up with a desperate plan. In my greatest superhuman feat of all, I divided myself into two supermen: Superman, who would tend to the needs of humanity; and Clark Kent, who would try a desperate bid to save Lois. But in doing so, I deprived myself and my beloved of our humanity."

"And he figured all of this out!" the ghost adds. "I'm impressed."

"I wasn't totally sure of the details, but yes, I got the gist of it," Bruce says, allowing himself a brief glow of pride. "My first clue was when you told those assassins to leave the mountains; I'd been told that no one could leave the mountains without the permission of Grandfather Freeze. The rest just fell into place."

Both Kal-els are transfixed by the woman in the ice, and do not seem to be listening to him.

"Who is that?" Selina asks.

"Lois Lane," the ghost whispers. He turns to his double. "You know you need to let her go."

Swallowing hard, the other Kal-el bows his head. "I ask you only one thing: let me go with her."

The ghost nods. The two supermen face each other and put the palms of their hands together. A bright light shines between them. The corporeal Kal-el turns to the ice encasing Lois, and it begins to melt.

Bruce stands beside Selina, who watches the spectacle with a mixture of confusion and awe. The ghost says to them, "We have exchanged forms. The ghost Kal-el you knew is now occupying my body."

"Fascinating," Bruce whispers.

The ice melts, revealing an aged, white-haired woman lying on a bed of crystal. Her eyes flutter, and she whispers, "Clark."

"Lois," the ghost says, his voice trembling. "Lois, I'm so sorry… I couldn't stand to lose you…"

But her eyes are closed now, and she is perfectly still. Sobbing, the ghost reaches forward, and an ethereal hand reaches up from Lois' body and takes his. He lifts the ghostly woman to her feet and holds her in his arms.

"Thank you," she says, embracing him. She turns to Selina and Bruce. "Thank you all."

"Forgive me, Lois," the ghost Kal-el sobs.

"Shh, Clark," she whispers. "It's alright. Let's go."

Holding each other closely, the two ghosts fade to nothingness.

The remaining Kal-el stares into space, tears in his eyes. He finally says, "Come on, let's get out of here."

They follow him out of the cave. Breaking the silence, Bruce asks, "That other superman hadn't taken an oath of non-violence."

"No," Kal-el says. "And I am sorry about that."

Bruce runs his fingers along his teeth, ensuring that they are all there. "Are you still bound by that oath?"

"Yes. My oaths cannot be broken."

"Too bad."

They emerge onto the mountain peak. It is evening now, and in the distance, the lights of Gotham City are visible.

"You can't fly, can you?" Selina asks.

"Fly? No," Kal-el replies, "but I can leap over tall buildings."

"Then we should camp here tonight," Selina says. "Once we leave the Northlands, we can head for Gotham. I have a contact operating in and around Gotham, a merchant named Oswald Cobblepot. He's a scumbag, but he'll do anything for me. He can sneak us in."

"Very well," Kal-el nods. "I will go ahead to Gotham and attempt to make contact with some of my former allies. With any luck, we may be able to incite a rebellion against the Shadow King."

Bruce asks him, "How can I defeat the Shadow King?"

"It is the same with him as it is with me," Kal-el tells him. "You must learn his true name."

"I don't suppose you know what that is."

He grins. "If I knew that, I would defeat him myself."

Bruce looks at Selina with exasperation. Kal-el says, "Well, there is no time to lose. Godspeed to both of you; when you reach Gotham, I will be there to meet you."

They bid him farewell, and he leaps off the mountainside.

Staring into the distance, Bruce muses, "The main roads will be dangerous. The Shadow King wants us dead, and the assassins we faced in the mountains won't be the last. Is there any other way we can get to Gotham?"

She thinks for a moment. "There is the old Crane estate. It's an old farmyard, mostly overgrown now, and there was a road that ran through it. I'm not sure why, but the assassins never use it anymore."

"That's the road we'll take," Bruce affirms.

"Good," she says. "Now, can you please explain to me what happened in there?"

He smiles, explaining to her the details of his confrontation with the enraged superman as they make camp inside the crystal cave. He is soon overtaken by a wave of exhaustion, and is falling asleep within minutes.

As he drifts off, he stares at the empty crystal throne, and realizes that Ivy is gone from his thoughts.


	5. The Fields of Fear

**After a longer wait than I would have liked, here's Chapter 5! This one took a long time because of deadlines, computer problems, and because it was hard to write. It has an unusual take on Scarecrow, I think, and is a bit darker than previous chapters. Anyway, R&R – let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters. Rating is for possible disturbing content.**

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 5: The Fields of Fear**

_So this is hell. I'd never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the "burning marl." Old wives' tales! There's no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is other people!_

_- Jean-Paul Sartre,_

No Exit

A bat on a crucifix.

That is what he sees before him. The shadow of a giant, ragged bat hung upon a cross, maybe for its sins, maybe for the sins of Gotham.

He smiles with cracked lips, staring at his own shadow which extends before him like a Rorschach ink blot in the sun's last light. All around him, the golden grasses shift gently in the wind. His cape rustles slightly, giving the appearance of the bat's wings moving. _It's struggling,_ he thinks. _It's trying to get away. Doesn't it know that it can never escape?_

There is blood on his armour. Selina's blood. _She betrayed me, _he thinks, shaking with rage. His muscles ache; he has been hanging from the wooden frame for most of the day now, and it had been no easy task to tie himself to the frame in the first place. There is a pond in the fields in front of him, and he longs for its water, but he knows he has drank his last. The only end to his thirst will be death.

_My death will bring justice,_ he thinks, and allows himself to smile.

***

He recalls his first encounter with the scarecrow. Three days have passed, but it is still so clear in his mind's eye.

They came down from the mountains and journeyed by night to the boundary of the Crane farm, narrowly avoiding the patrols of the League of Shadows. It took the better part of the night to reach it, and by the time they approached the edge of the vast cornfield, the false dawn was illuminating the horizon.

"You know," Selina says, "it could be that we'd be better off facing the League than going through here."

He smirks. "Do you think it's haunted or something?"

"All I know is that we never went in here when I was in the League," she explains. "Nobody even talked about it. It was on the map, but it's like it didn't even exist."

"Odd, considering how central it is to the island. But if they're superstitious, we can use that against them," he tells her. "Isn't that what I've been doing all along as the Dream Knight?"

"I suppose." She narrows her eyes. "Is there someone over there?"

"Where?"

She points. "Over there. There's something in the corn."

He follows her gaze. Against the horizon, he can distinguish a shape standing above the corn stalks. He shivers despite himself, and says, "I can't tell. Could be a tree."

She purses her lips. "You know, we could always take our chances with the main road to Gotham. It's quicker, and if we go by night, we could probably avoid most of the patrols."

"Selina, we've had three close calls on the way here alone. It seems like the entire League of Shadows is after us, and I don't like the idea of travelling in the open. If they don't use the old farm road, we should, unless you have a good reason why we shouldn't."

Beneath her mask, he sees her face tighten in a scowl. "Alright, let's go."

They walk in silence toward the field. After a few minutes, Selina stops, saying, "Bruce, there's someone there."

He stares at the distant object silhouetted against the horizon. It is vaguely human-shaped; wide as it rises above the corn, with what could be a head on top. He shakes his head. "It hasn't moved. Why would someone just stand there?"

She ignores him. "Do you think he can see us?"

"There's nobody there."

She tightens her jaw, clutching her whip and continuing alongside him.

After another moment, she suddenly seizes his arm, causing him to jump in spite of himself. "It's a man!" she hisses. "A man in a cloak! I saw it move in the wind!"

"Selina, calm down!" He puts his hands on her shoulders, then peers at the silhouette. She may be right; it could be a man, but it seems impossibly tall. The wind gusts lightly, and he sees what could be a cloak moving in the wind as the corn stalks sway gently. He stares into her widened green eyes. "What if it is a man? There's one of him and two of us."

She releases his arm. He continues on, but his resolve has been shaken. _Selina is normally fearless,_ he thinks; _why is this bothering her so much?_

They walk closer, closer to the field and the silhouette. Now he cannot take his eyes off of it. For a moment, he thinks he sees it move, but realizes that it is likely an illusion caused by the wind in the corn.

"He knows we're coming," Selina murmurs. Idly, he reaches for his boomerang. _Om mani padme hum,_ he mouths to himself. The mantra calms his nerves momentarily.

They draw nearer. He no longer doubts that it is a person facing them, although they are still too far to make out any details. He wishes the sun would rise, although he knows that the dawn is still more than an hour away.

"Bruce," Selina whispers, "let's go back."

He clenches his teeth, then calls out, "You there!"

There is silence. Instinctively, Bruce draws his boomerang and charges through the field towards the silhouette. His heart pounds in his chest, and he readies himself to hurl the boomerang before seeing the object for what it is.

A scarecrow.

It wears a red, stained jacket and a burlap bag over its head. Thick cords bind its arms to a cross-shaped wooden frame, and it hangs, facing downwards, its feet half a metre from the ground. On its head is a ragged straw hat.

Selina catches up to him and stares at the scarecrow.

"I... I feel like an idiot... It's just a scarecrow..."

He stares at it grimly. "It's more than that."

Walking toward it, he nearly trips on a thick piece of wood near the base of the cross. He reaches up and removes the hat and bag. A dried, desiccated face stares eyelessly at him.

Selina moves closer. "What could have done this?"

"I don't know. It makes an effective scarecrow, though, doesn't it?" he asks, guarding the waver in his voice. His heart is still pounding from his charge, and the scarecrow is deeply unsettling.

"So is that how you deal with your fear?" she asks him, as if sensing his discomfort. "By charging blindly at it?"

"It seemed the reasonable thing to do," he tells her, then reaches up to the scarecrow's head and pulls. The flesh is dry and brittle, and the head comes off with little resistance, leaving a cloud of dust. He drops it on the ground.

"What are you doing?" she snaps, incredulous.

"Whoever did this is trying to use fear as a weapon against us. I'm leaving them a message that we're not afraid of them. Come on, let's get going."

"Now you want to go further?" Her eyes are wide.

"Don't you?"

Glancing at the decapitated body, she says, "We know that there's something in here. Something dangerous that wants us to stay away."

He folds his arms. "Whatever happened to the Cat Woman? The scourge of Arkham? All I see before me is a frightened girl." He is taken aback by his own words, which seemed to come out of their own volition.

She casts him a withering stare. "Look, I'm trying to be reasonable. Now we know both roads are dangerous, and I think dealing with the League of Shadows, who we've fought before, is a better choice than running headlong into the unknown. And don't lecture me on fear; I know you were just as afraid as I was."

There is a moment of tense silence. _She's right_, he thinks. _I am afraid. _And he considers turning back, taking the main road to Gotham and leaving this place forever. He imagines a future where he has defeated the Shadow King and won the liberty of Gotham, and has returned to Arkham to live a simple life. For the rest of his life, the unconquered Crane farm will loom in his consciousness like the decapitated scarecrow hanging above his head now, gnawing at him like a cancer. He can hear the voices of Gotham saying, "Here is a place where even the Dream Knight feared to tread."

And he takes the scarecrow's burlap mask and puts it on over his face.

"I am not afraid," he tells her. "I am fear."

He turns and walks back toward the farm road. It is a long moment before she follows him, and he knows she is struggling with the temptation to return to the main road, leaving him to face the unknown demons of the fields alone. But she does follow him, walking slightly behind him and saying nothing. He is more relieved than he had expected.

As they walk into the eerie silence of the early morning, he casts one final glance at the decapitated scarecrow. In the corn next to it, he sees the head facing him, staring, and he imagines that it grins.

***

_The Dream Knight had been no stranger to fear,_ he thinks as he sags on the wooden frame under his own weight.

He recalls the visceral rush of mortal terror when he fought the immortal Kal-el, the life-or-death battle on the mountainside with the assassins, the choking fear that overwhelmed him at the thought of losing Selina to the monster reptile in the forest, and the nightmarish horror he faced during his hallucinogenic journey to the Oracle.

Nothing, though, had been quite the same as the dread he faced as he followed Selina down the farm road this morning. It was a sustained, creeping dread, and like a drop of poison in a glass of water, it billowed into his psyche, tainting and polluting his thoughts. It was the knowledge that something terrible awaited them, something evil that could be lurking in the cornstalks mere metres from where they walked. Or perhaps it was the silence – there were no birds to be heard in these fields; not even insects could be found. And, of course, there was the moment when he first saw the Man-Bat.

He smiles again beneath the scarecrow mask, staring at the lengthening shadows before him. If he had only known what awaited him! But fear has left him now, and not even his own imminent death disturbs him.

_Death will be a welcome end to this nightmare,_ he thinks as he recalls the events of that first day in Jonathan Crane's farm.

***

It is a pale morning, and the sun is obscured by black clouds looming on the horizon.

They have been walking for several hours, and have passed three more scarecrows along the side of the road. Selina had said nothing since their exchange in the fields by the scarecrow, which still echoes in his mind. _I'm not afraid,_ he had said. A lie, of course, but a necessary one. _Selina is faltering, _he thinks, _but I can inspire her by being without fear. _But the fear is there, nagging at the edges of his consciousness, drawing him in, waiting to consume him.

Something black flits by in the distance, in the periphery of his vision. He turns, but there is only the gently waving corn.

_There's something following us, _he realizes. _It must have seen what I did to the scarecrow. _

He brings his breathing under control, reciting a mantra. _I will not give in to fear and bitterness,_ he tells himself. _I will face this unknown threat with composure and focus, and I will overcome it as I overcome all challenges._

There is a rustling in the corn, and again, something black appears at the edge of his vision, darting back under the corn before he can turn.

"We're being followed," he announces to Selina, his voice level.

She turns to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. There's something in the corn."

She readies her whip and he draws a boomerang. "Did you see what it was?" she asks.

"Something black. Not human." His heart is pounding again, and he struggles to keep his breathing steady.

They wait in tense silence for several minutes. The only sound is the corn sighing in the breeze, and the distant rumbling of thunder.

"Maybe we should keep going," he ventures, staring into the cornfield, "and try to find some shelter before that storm gets here."

She nods, and they continue along, scanning the fields anxiously.

"What did you see?" she asks.

"I don't know. It was dark, and fast. I only saw it out of the corner of my eye."

"But you're sure you saw something?"

_Am I? _he wonders. "I... I can't say for sure."

She glowers at him. "Come on, Bruce, you've got to do better than that."  
_I have demonstrated weakness,_ he realizes with disgust. _I must not do that, since I am fear._ "Whatever it was, I will destroy it if it threatens us again."

She narrows her eyes. "Bruce, cut the pretence, and take off that disgusting scarecrow mask while you're at it. You're not fooling anyone, least of all me."

"Hush," he whispers. "If they are following us, they may be able to hear you. The mask is necessary. They cannot use fear against me if I become fear. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's not making me uncomfortable," she snaps. "It looks ridiculous. What's making me uncomfortable is how you're acting. It's not like you. I know you're afraid – with the silence, and the corpse-scarecrows lining the road, who wouldn't be? I'm worried that it's really getting to you, and your reaction is to charge forward without regard for the consequences, just like before."

_She wants to turn back, _he thinks to himself, _and is trying to undermine my will. _"I am the Dream Knight," he reminds her. "I won't turn back. We'll press on and defeat whatever is waiting for us."

Lightning flashes in the distance, and thunder booms louder than it had before. She looks uneasily at the advancing storm clouds and says, "Maybe we should find shelter."

"That's a good idea," he agrees, and they continue briskly down the road. He turns to look behind him and sees it in the corn. A giant bat, just like the one in his nightmares. He blinks, and it is gone.

"Hurry," he says to Selina, and they pick up speed. Cresting a hill, they are confronted by the sight of a huge, gothic-looking farm house. Rain begins to fall, and lightning crashes, followed almost immediately by thunder.

"Inside, quickly!" He runs towards the house, but Selina is frozen in her tracks. "Bruce," she says softly, pointing.

He had almost run right past it. Another scarecrow standing in front of the house, this one even more unsettling than the others due to the presence of two long needles stuck through its mask where its eyes would be.

"It's a warning," she says, her face pale. "A warning not to go inside."

Thunder booms, and over it, Bruce hears the screech of a bat. "We have to go in!" he says. "We need shelter!"

And he runs onto the porch of the farmhouse and opens the door. Reluctantly, Selina follows him, her eyes still on the scarecrow. Together, they venture inside the Crane house.

***

The last rays of the sun sparkle on the surface of the lake. His thirst is so great that he cannot bear to look at it any longer, and he turns his head.

There is the Crane house, standing ominously in the distance. _Who else will venture inside those accursed walls? _he wonders. _What other souls will it steal?_

He recalls their first moments within the house, how they had searched each room – the kitchen, the wine cellar, the storage rooms, and finally, the bedchamber upstairs with the blood-stained floor and the two dried corpses.

It had been Selina who had discovered the remains, and he recalled the look in her beautiful green eyes. It was a look of deep weariness, of someone who had been pushed to the limits of physical and psychological endurance and was now prepared to push back. Of course, he had not recognized it at the time – what a fool he had been! – which was why it was such a shock when she announced that she was going to sleep.

He had not understood at the time how she could sleep in the bed of that corpse, which she had casually thrown to the floor, but she reminded him that they had been journeying for a full day and night and she was prepared to sleep anywhere, that the corpses had clearly been dead for many years, and anyway she had found some clean sheets which she would spread on the bed.

In hindsight, Bruce realized that it had been her way of defying whatever powers were stalking them – indeed, defying fear itself. He, however, chose vigilance over rest, and had resolved to protect her throughout the day as she slept.

And so he had patrolled the house throughout that stormy day. Several times he found doors and windows open, and once he had even seen the black mass of the Man-Bat crawling in a window in the upper floor. His keen eyes and quick boomerangs had prevented the demon from entering their sanctuary. At the time, he had taken pride in keeping himself and his sleeping companion safe.

Only later did he realize that the Man-Bat never needed to enter the house.

He stares at the Crane house now, and allows his mind to venture within it once more, recalling the events that sealed his doom.

***

"Bruce."

He jumps, then whirls around, boomerang in hand. Selina is standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her cowl in her hand. He lowers his weapon.

"It tried to get in," he said, "but I fought it off."

"What tried to get in?"

"The monster."

Her eyes widen. "Why didn't you wake me? Did you see it?"

"Just glimpses. It's some sort of man-bat-thing. A demon, I think. But I didn't need to wake you. I wanted you to sleep in peace."

She storms toward him and slaps him hard on the cheek. "Don't ever do that again. We're in this together, Bruce. You're not my protector. I don't need your protection."

His cheek throbs, and he strokes it gently underneath the burlap mask. "Just be glad you didn't have to face it yourself. It was a terrifying creature."

She is livid with rage. "I thought you were worthy of my trust, Bruce, but now I see you for what you really are. You're no better than the Shadow King; you're a small man who uses fear to control people. I thought I could change you, help you become something more than what you were, but I've failed you."

He is stunned. "Something more than what I was?"

But she is already heading for the door. He calls, "Stop! The Man-Bat is out there! You can't leave!"

She whirls to face him. "I'd rather face it alone than stay here with you. Don't follow me."

And she turns her back on him and storms away.

_I have to stop her,_ he thinks. _For her own good._ He takes a cushion from a nearby rocking chair and runs up behind her just as she is opening the door, holding the pillow over her face.

"Mmf!" She struggles, kicking at him, but soon goes limp in his arms.

"Sorry, Selina," he says, taking her unconscious body to a wooden chair in the kitchen of the house. "You will thank me later."

He finds some thick rope and ties her tightly to the chair. Her eyes flutter.

"Bruce!"

He whirls around. It was a ghostly voice, with a timbre like a tree-branch scraping a window.

"Bruce!"

He walks into the living room of the house. The front door is open, and the wind bangs it against the wall. The rain pours in, and outside, the night is deepening.

"Bruce!"

He follows the sound of the voice out the door. The scarecrow with the needles in its eyes has turned, and is now facing the house.

"Hello, Bruce," it says malevolently.

"Who are you?" he demands, drawing his combat boomerang.

The wind lashes its ragged red jacket violently, and Bruce wonders how its straw hat stays on its head. "My name is Jonathan Crane," it says.

"How do you know my name?"

It cackles, a dry, brittle, choking sound. "I know all about you, Bruce," it says. "I know your deepest, darkest fears. I am a farmer, you see. A farmer of fear."

He raises his chin. "I am without fear."

"Are you?" the scarecrow asks, its voice dripping with malice. "I have met many who told me the same thing. You've met them, too. You've seen them along the side of the road, warning you to go no further!"

_The scarecrows,_ he thinks, then growls, "You know nothing about me."

"Oh, but I do. We are so very much alike, you see."

He advances, boomerang in hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Perhaps I should tell you a little about myself, and you'll understand my meaning," it says gleefully. "You see, this place used to be my home. I grew up here, me and my mother and father. They didn't always get along. Mother was a socialite from Gotham, one of the old aristocracy. She met my father at the market one day – he was a farmer, and had come in to sell his corn – and they had what you might call a tryst. And thus was I conceived."

Bruce can do nothing more than stand in the pouring rain and stare as the scarecrow tells its story. It continues, "They went their separate ways then. Now, my grandfather – my mother's father – was a proud man. He was my namesake, Jonathan Crane, and he was very concerned about the purity of the family name. You know how aristocrats are." It cackles again. "He had two other daughters, as I recall. One of them joined a religious order and swore celibacy, and the other was quite mad. Anyway, when he found out about Mother's affair, he was furious. He demanded to know who the father was – with the intent of killing him, I suppose. He threatened to kill Mother, too, but she said she would scream, and asked what the servants would think. So he locked her up, but she escaped and came here, to my father's farm. It was a night very much like this when I was born, or so I'm told, and she sent a message to my grandfather telling him that she had given birth to a son, and she'd named me after him so that he would always know that the family name was being carried on by a half-breed, the son of a commoner."

It is silent for a moment, then declares, "So you see, my very existence is just to spite my namesake! But Mother was afraid. She knew that her father wanted to kill all of us, so she made sure I was well-hidden. Have you been to the wine cellar?"

He nods dumbly.

"That's where I spent the entire first five years of my life! Oh, it was a sad existence. Mother guarded me jealously, but she never really loved me. I was just her revenge against her father. And my father – well, I wasn't the son he wanted. Weak and sickly, I was, maybe because of spending five years in a small room, never seeing the sun. Of course, Mother always told me that the greatest weapon was the mind, and she always made sure I was reading. Always reading. She said I was quite the precocious reader.

"Father took pity on me, though, and decided that I should go outside. So he took me out into the fields, and showed me the farm, which he had decided I would take over. But I didn't want to be a farmer. The sun burned my eyes and my skin, and I thought I was destined for greater things. And I hate corn. Absolutely hate it. So that night, I told Mother that some of her father's spies had seen my father and recognized him. She was very paranoid, you understand. So that night, while he was sleeping, Mother poured acid on his face. Burned it right off! All because of me!"

Bruce's stomach turns, but he can do nothing but listen.

"Father was never the same after that. He never spoke much, and I knew he resented Mother and me. But he kept farming, this man with bandages instead of a face, and provided for us. The years passed, and I grew to be a man. Mother always said I had his face, you know, that face which she had always loved, even though she hated Father for ruining his life. But she never let me leave. Always threatened to kill herself and Father if I did. So, I'm sure you can imagine the effect that this would have on a virile young man, having no female company except for Mother!"

The scarecrow cackles and the wind lashes rain into Bruce's face. _The corpses in the bedroom,_ he thinks, horrified.

"Yes, I did the unthinkable," it laughs. "Do you want to know what order I did it in? I'll leave the details to your imagination. But I'm no monster; I knew that I couldn't live with myself, seeing what I had seen, and doing what I had done. So I put these needles through my eyes – they were Mother's, but I never knew her to knit, so you can only imagine why she kept them around – and now here I am! A warning against madness!"

He stares at the corpse on the wooden frame. "But how..."

"Where are your detective skills now, Bruce? Can't you tell that I did this to myself?"

Some remaining shred of rationality in his mind says to him, _Yes, it's possible. Look at the way the cords are tied; he could have tightened it just by pulling the ends. And the wooden block by the base of the frame, just like the first scarecrow; all he needed to do was kick it out from under his own feet._

The scarecrow gazes at him. "So now you see how you will become just like us?"

Bruce clenches his fist. "You are an abomination. I am nothing like you."

"Oh, but you are. You also killed your parents."

_My parents? _He feels as if the wind has been knocked from him. Softly, he says, "No."

The scarecrow laughs. "Just like me, you killed them through your fear. But while I was driven mad by the fear instilled in me by my mother, your simple cowardice killed yours."

"You're lying!" he roars.

"Aha, not at all. Don't you remember? The frightened child who had to leave the opera? Who could do nothing but watch as the murderer stole the lives of Thomas and Martha? Who ran away instead of continuing their work, finally dishonouring their legacy? Or have you forced yourself to forget?"

Images flash through his mind, memories long repressed and buried. Unable to stand before the scarecrow, he turns and runs back into the house, slamming the door behind him. In a mirror by the door, he sees himself, soaked in rain, still wearing the mask of the scarecrow. Frantically, he tears it off, but in place of his own face in the mirror is the face of the Joker. With a howl, he hurls his boomerang at the mirror, shattering it into tiny pieces that reflect his own face, each twisted and distorted in a different way.

He runs into the kitchen where Selina is bound.

"Bruce!" she calls. "Listen to me; I've figured it out! There's something in the corn that's affecting our minds!"

But her words barely register. "Who am I?" he demands.

"Bruce, listen to the sound of my voice! You have to fight it!"

He advances towards her, shaking, tears streaming from his eyes. "You knew who I was all along! You knew I killed my parents!"

Her eyes are wide. "What are you talking about?" she breathes.

"You knew!"

"Bruce, listen to what I'm saying –"

"Tell me who I am!" he shrieks.

She blinks back tears. "Bruce, there's something in the corn!"

He looks out the window. Dark shapes dance in the storm. "The Bat!" he hisses. "The Bat is in the corn, and it can hear you! It can't know who I really am! Tell me I'm the Dream Knight!"

"Bruce, you're delusional," she says, staring at him with a look of terror on her face.

"I am the Dream Knight! I am without fear! Say it!"

"No," she sobs, closing her eyes.

He seizes her by the shoulders and shakes the chair, bellowing, "SAY IT!"

And suddenly her foot is loose from its bonds, and she trips him. As he crashes to the ground, she rises from the chair, facing him in a defensive stance.

Blood pounds through his veins as he grabs the chair and hurls it at her. It breaks on her shoulder, and he rolls to his feet. She is facing him again now, and in her eyes is the deadly focus of a hunting cat. Breathing heavily, he turns away and seizes a long, sharp knife from the kitchen counter, then charges at her. His rage is nearly blinding him as he lunges at her, grazing her arm as she twists out of the way. Her blood splatters on his armour.

Then she spins, jabbing a pressure point in his arm, and his hand opens and drops the blade. She brings her knee into his gut, and he doubles over. He looks up, but does not have time to react as she kicks him hard in the face. He collapses again, and blackness forms on the edges of his vision.

He can see her shaking as she runs out of the house. Forcing himself back to his feet, he stumbles after her, out of the kitchen, past the shattered mirror, and onto the porch in the rain. The scarecrow leers at him.

"What have I become?" he asks it, falling to his knees.

"You're like me now!" It cackles again.

Fighting unconsciousness, he belatedly understands what Selina said. "The corn," he gasps.

"There is nothing alive here," the scarecrow explains, its voice warping. "No corn, no monsters, not even the crawling things that feast upon human corpses. There are only our fears, come to life. The corn is a manifestation of my fear; the Man-Bat yours. There is nothing but us scarecrows, a testament to the power of fear!"

He is unable to fight any longer. The last thing he hears before losing consciousness is the hideous cackling of the scarecrow and the howling wind.

***

He remembers the clarity in his mind when he awoke late the next afternoon.

The storm had subsided, and the scarecrow had fallen silent once more. Calmly, methodically, Bruce had broken into the shed outside the farm house and measured and cut the wood for the frame. There was no fear; only certainty remained. He was certain about the fate he deserved. It was justice, pure and simple. A coward would be punished.

It took the whole night to assemble the frame and tie the cords precisely enough that he could tighten them enough with only his wrists to support his entire body on the frame. But by dawn, he was ready. He chose a location a short distance from the farm house, planted the frame firmly in the ground, and strung himself to it facing the rising sun. Upon kicking the wooden block out from beneath his feet, he became a scarecrow.

And now he hangs in the twilight, awaiting death. It is not long before he is staring into its eyes. He is not surprised to see that it is the great, black Man-Bat.

"I faced you once before," he says to the animal. "You took my parents. I could not face you then, but now I am not afraid."

The Man-Bat cocks its head, and its black fur ripples.

"Let justice be done," he whispers.

The monstrosity spreads its great, leathery wings and unleashes a piercing shriek. Then there is a crack, and a spiked whip wraps around its neck. It is pulled backwards and topples over, and Selina plunges her blade into its neck.

With a groan, Bruce's frame sags forward and breaks, and he hits the ground hard.

Selina is loosening his bonds now and helping him up. Through parched lips, he croaks, "I do not deserve this."

She hoists him to his feet, putting his arm across her shoulders. "If any other man had done what you did, I would have killed him. But I know you. You were being affected by the corn, but I know your true nature. You are the Dream Knight."

"No," he protests. "Selina, I..."

"It was the corn," she repeats, removing his mask. Then she unfastens his armour, and pulls off his garments.

She lays him at the edge of the pond, and he groans.

"Shh," she whispers as she disrobes. "I forgive you."

Then she pulls him into the water. He drinks deeply. The water is cool, and Selina's touch is soft. She pulls him deeper, and they stand shoulder-deep, embracing.

"I told you once that your life belongs to me," she whispers in his ear. "Now I've saved it again so that you can fulfill your destiny. You are the Dream Knight. You are mine."

She kisses him then and pulls him under the surface of the water. Feeling his strength returning, he passionately returns her kiss, holding her tightly. They break above the surface again, breathing deeply.

"I belong to you," he says to her. "And I can never thank you enough."

She puts her hand on his face. "You know how you can thank me."

"I will restore peace to Gotham."

A sly smile crosses her face. "I wasn't talking about that."

And she pulls him beneath the surface once more.

***

They reach the edge of the Crane farm the next morning.

Somehow, the corn disappeared overnight, leaving the fields dry and barren. It had been a short walk to the edge afterwards, and another few hours' journey to the Penguin Inn on the main road.

Selina leads them through the back door, and an attendant takes them to the inn's proprietor, Oswald Cobblepot.

"Selina!" the diminutive but well-dressed man greets her. He embraces her, and Bruce notices with disdain that his hand ventures too far down her lower back. "It's been so long since I got your letter that I didn't think you were coming. It's a good thing I didn't leave here today like I was planning to!"

"It's good to see you, Ossie," she purrs.

He grins. "But I know you, Selina – you didn't come here to socialize. What is it that you want?"

She gestures to Bruce. "We need to get into Gotham. Discreetly."

"And who might this be?" He pulls a monocle from his breast pocket and eyes Bruce warily. "Never mind," he says. "It's probably better that I don't know."

He turns to Selina. "Come, there's a coach waiting. I'll take you to the magistrate. You remember him, don't you? Harvey Dent?"

She nods, then whispers to Bruce, "Harvey is a good man and was an ally of your parents. The people of Gotham love him; even the Shadow King won't move against him. He'll be good to have on our side, trust me."

He takes her hand. "I do trust you."

Cobblepot notices their affection and grimaces. "Come on now, let's get going. Gotham is waiting." And he shuffles away, beckoning them to follow.

Bruce gazes into Selina's eyes once more. After a moment, she looks away, smiling. "Come on, let's go," she says.

And she takes his hand and leads him to the coach that will take him to Gotham, and to his destiny.

**Stay tuned for the exciting two-part conclusion of Dream Knight! Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!**

**(Yeah, I couldn't help it.)**


	6. Duality

**After a longer wait than I would have liked, here's Chapter 5! This one took a long time because of deadlines, computer problems, and because it was hard to write. It has an unusual take on Scarecrow, I think, and is a bit darker than previous chapters. Anyway, R&R – let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters. Rating is for possible disturbing content.**

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 6: Duality**

_To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these — the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever..._

- Edgar Allan Poe,

"The Masque of the Red Death"

_Bang. Bang._

_Martha falls to the street, followed by Thomas. The boy in the suit watches wordlessly as blood begins to pool beneath them. When he looks up, the man with the wild eyes is pointing a gun at him. It shakes uncontrollably._

_He feels like he has witnessed this scene a thousand times, and the visceral terror the boy may once have felt has ebbed, leaving only a dull heartache. Blankly, he stares at the man with a level gaze. The murderer cannot meet his eye, but mutters something and vanishes into the night._

"_Bruce!" a woman's voice calls. His heart skips a beat. _Could it be different this time?_ he wonders, rushing to his mother's side. But there is only the red stickiness of her lifeblood as it pools upon the pavement._

***

"Bruce!"

He opens his eyes and finds himself in the back of Oswald Cobblepot's carriage, staring into Selina's eyes.

She smiles. "You seemed kind of far away for a minute."

Perplexed, he says, "I must have nodded off. I was dreaming."

"We were just talking a minute ago." Her brow knits in confusion. "What did you dream about?"

He frowns. "It was the same dream I always have. I was in a city of shadows, and there was a boy... I think he might have been me." Insight passes over him momentarily. "And there was a man with a gun!"

"A gun? What do you mean?"

He grasps at the memories of the dream, but they are gone. "I don't know."

The carriage slows and stops, and the door opens. "Alright, kiddies, we're here," announces Cobblepot.

They climb out of the carriage into a narrow, poorly-lit city street. Darkly coloured buildings are packed together on both sides of the road. An ornate, Gothic building looms before them.

"This is the back door," Cobblepot tells them. "Go on in. Magistrate Dent knows you're coming."

"You aren't coming with us?" Bruce inquires, his eyes narrowed at the diminutive man.

"Um. No. I have things to do. Oswald Cobblepot, man about town, you know."

And he climbs back into the carriage. "Best of luck to you both! Selina, come see me again and we'll set up a date! And say hello to the magistrate for me – I hope he's in one of his good moods! Wak wak wak!" He laughs a bizarre, quacking laugh and drives his carriage down the road.

Bruce turns to Selina. "What are the chances that this is a trap?"

"It's a definite possibility. We should be on our guard."

She walks to the door. It opens, and they enter the building. The hallways are lit by ornate candelabra and the floor is covered by a fine red carpet.

"Strange that there are no guards anywhere," Bruce notes. Selina nods.

They reach a staircase and climb it cautiously. At the top of the stairs, there is a short hallway that opens into a lobby. The lobby is partially illuminated by a bright chandelier, but all of the candles on one side are extinguished, making one half of the room much darker than the other. At the centre of the room is a chessboard on a table, and a well-dressed man faces it, thinking. Seated in a chair nearby is a dark-haired, olive-skinned woman clad in a black cloak.

As they enter the room, the man turns to face them. Half of his finely chiselled face is hideously burned, and the withered skin is an unnatural shade of purple. The woman remains seated, regarding them coolly.

Selina's eyes are wide as she stares at Dent's scarred face, and she turns to Bruce and whispers, "He's changed."

"The Cat Woman and the Dream Knight," Dent smiles. The eye on the unscarred side of his face stares aimlessly as the other regards them with lethal focus. "Do come in and take a seat."

"Are you Harvey Dent?" Bruce asks the disfigured man suspiciously.

"Sometimes." He turns back to the chessboard. "I apologize, but I must take my turn in this game or I will be distracted. I think I can win, but my opponent is wily and has snatched victory from the jaws of defeat on more than one occasion."

There is a couch nearby, and Bruce and Selina sit in it. There are two sets of cushions on the couch, one black, the other white.

After a moment of silence, Dent moves a black knight.

"There," he says. "My opponent will take his turn within the next few days. I'm interested to see how he will get out of this." He turns to face them again. "Are you chess players, either of you?"

They shake their heads.

"I suggest you take it up. As would-be defenders of the peace, it is very helpful, since it teaches the brain to think strategically and plan several moves in advance." He pauses. "There are some who say that the advantage of white, in taking the first move, is enough that the best that black can hope for is a stalemate. I, however, beg to differ. I always play as black, and there have been times where I have won very decisively against white, even though he follows formal strategy flawlessly."

"Maybe that is his problem," Selina muses.

Dent smiles, and yellow teeth on his withered side show through his missing cheek. "I like to think so. While adherence to such strategies can confer great advantage, it also lends a certain predictability. As for myself, I am, of course, familiar with chess strategy, but I prefer to be unpredictable. I have even lost several games as a result, which infuriates my opponent to no end. He demands to know why I allow myself to lose, while simple adherence to formal strategy would grant me victory. But I like to remind him that he does not understand me nearly as well as I understand him, and this gives me an advantage in all aspects of our relationship."

Selina looks at Bruce, then says to Dent, "Harvey, we need your help against the Shadow King."

Dent leers at her. "I'm sorry, Miss Kyle, but the magistrate is not in today. You are speaking to Two-Face, lord of the Gotham underworld!"

Bruce darts to his feet. "Cobblepot betrayed us!"

"Not exactly," Dent grins. "He had no idea which of us you would meet. And as long as he received his payment, he didn't care." He turns to the seated woman. "Talia, would you escort our guests to the dungeon?"

"With pleasure," she says in a low, husky voice.

Suddenly, Bruce feels a blinding pain shoot through his arm. He looks down to see a black shuriken stuck in his forearm. Wincing, he tears it out.

Selina is on her feet now, her whip drawn. Talia faces her in a defensive stance, beckoning her to come forward. Reciting a mantra, Bruce draws a boomerang with his good arm and faces Talia as Two-Face watches with interest.

Suddenly, Talia hurls a handful of shuriken at them. Bruce dodges to the side, but Selina is struck in the leg. With blinding speed, Talia is upon them, landing a powerful kick to the side of Selina's head. She crumples to the ground.

Steadying his breathing to compartmentalize his rage and pain, Bruce faces Talia, allowing his qi to blend with hers. Talia approaches him in a defensive stance. She is an extremely well-trained warrior, he observes; her movements are disciplined and methodical, with no unnecessary energy spent. Beneath her cloak, he observes that she is wearing black armour identical to that of the assassins of the League of Shadows. Her face betrays no emotion.

Blood is dripping from his wounded arm. _If I am to beat her,_ he thinks, _it will have to be quick, before I lose too much blood._ And he feints forward with his boomerang. She tenses, raising her gauntlets slightly, then draws back, glancing quickly at his wound.

He moves forward, slashing with his boomerang, which she deflects with her gauntlet. Immediately, he kicks at her stomach. In one movement, she dodges to the side and grabs his leg. Twisting it, she uses his momentum to pull him off his feet, and then pulls inward, crashing her knee into his face as he falls to the ground. Stunned and bloodied, he struggles to his feet, and then her arm is around his neck, cutting off his breathing.

The last thing he sees before blacking out is Dent watching him, grinning approvingly. Then he slips into the blackness of unconsciousness.

***

_There is a boy standing over the bodies of his parents._

_He watches as the boy sobs, touching their ruined bodies gingerly. Then he crosses the floor and takes the boy's hand._

_The boy looks up to the broken tightropes and netting. He stares at the empty seats rising around them on all sides, so recently full of spectators whose faces were masks of terror at the tragedy unfolding before them. They both know that many of them were applauding inwardly, their lust to satisfy their basest desires sated in a way that the circus show never could._

_He sees himself in the boy's eyes. He knows that the boy is frightened and angry now, and will struggle with this for his whole life. And he knows that if he can overcome these feelings, and temper them with an unquenchable thirst for justice, he might forge a meaning out of these meaningless events._

What can I do? _the boy asks him, tears streaming down his face._

_He pulls him to his feet and says: _Come with me.

***

Consciousness returns to Bruce slowly, accompanied by shooting pain from his injuries. He realizes he is in a dank, grey cell, clad in his black tunic. He is not alone.

He turns, and a boy, probably sixteen, is slouched in the corner, clad in red. He has black hair, dark eyes, and a dark expression, holding his knees close to his chest. He sees Bruce stirring and lifts his head.

It is the boy from Bruce's dream. "I know you," he says.

The boy cocks his head. "I don't think so."

"Yes," Bruce says. "I was there at the circus."

A look of shock crosses the youth's face. "Who are you?"

"Some call me the Dream Knight. You can call me Bruce. What is your name?"

"Robin," the boy says. He pauses for a moment, then, "Why are you in here?"

"I'd been looking for Magistrate Dent's help. It didn't go the way I'd planned." His stomach clenches. "Where's Selina?"

"The woman they brought you here with? I think they put her in another of the cells." Robin furrows his brow. "You were looking for Dent's help? For what?"

"I've come to Gotham to defeat the Shadow King."

Robin smirks. "Really?"

Keeping his gaze level, Bruce says, "I am the crown prince of Gotham. The Shadow King is a usurper who killed my family. I will defeat him and restore peace to Gotham."

"Seriously?" Robin asks, his eyes wide, the smirk not completely gone.

_It is so artificial to say, _Bruce thinks. _I am like an actor delivering a line he does not understand._ But he continues, "Yes. My companion and I have journeyed here from the village of Arkham."

And he tells Robin of his amnesia, his first encounter with Selina, and his journey to the Oracle, and the bliss of Ivy's garden. He describes his trek through the mountains to meet Kal-el, his nightmarish experience in Crane's farm, and his ill-fated meeting with Magistrate Dent and the assassin Talia. Robin listens intently, incredulity etched upon his face.

"Wow," he finally says.

Bruce nods. "And unless we can get out of this dungeon, my journey ends here." He narrows his eyes. "What got you in here?"

"Nothing so impressive," Robin tells him. "I was a vigilante. I was on a one-man crusade to bring down Two-Face's criminal empire. To avenge my parents."

"He killed your parents?"

"Yes." Robin looks down, emotion creeping into his voice. "Weren't you there when they were murdered? You should know that."

"I was there..." Bruce begins, but the details of his dream elude him.

"I was too impatient," he continues. "I went after Two-Face before I was ready. He knew I was coming."

Bruce scowls. "So Dent is both a major figure in the Gotham underworld _and _the highest judicial official?"

With a sigh, Robin explains, "There was a time when Two-Face... when Harvey Dent was the hero of the city. As the Shadow King and his assassins consolidated their control over the city, Dent rallied the people of Gotham and the city police force against them. They took control of the royal armoury and started training a citizen militia to fight back against the League. For a while, it looked like there was going to be a revolt, and the Shadow King knew that as the face of the people, Dent was too dangerous to live, but would become a martyr in death. So he sent his assassins one night, and they abducted Dent, tortured him, and murdered his family in front of him. And they burned one side of his face as a constant reminder of what happened."

"And that's when they broke him?" Bruce asks.

"I guess so," Robin replies distantly. "I mean, that's when crime bosses started turning up dead, and Two-Face took control of the Gotham underworld. I don't think people realized at first that Dent and Two-Face were the same person, and even now, they all seem convinced that someday Dent's going to win against Two-Face. And the Shadow King seems content to let Dent spend all his energy fighting this war against himself."

"That's bizarre," Bruce muses.

"Yeah. And they say he flips a coin every morning to decide whether he'll be Harvey or Two-Face."

Bruce stares across the cell at the youth. "I'm sure you realize, then, that by killing Two-Face, you'll kill Harvey Dent, the hero of Gotham."

Robin stares at the floor. "He killed my parents." Then he turns to Bruce. "You, of all people, should understand."

"I do understand. But you should also understand that you're just finishing the Shadow King's dirty work for him."

Robin's eyes narrow. "No," he says. "I don't think you do understand. You had amnesia, and I think it made you forget what it's like to have your whole life stolen from you. Two-Face… he doesn't even know who I am. He didn't know who my parents were. I don't even know why he killed them. They were just… he was just sending a message to the circus that he wanted a piece of their profits. He doesn't know what he did to me. He doesn't even care."

Blinking back tears, Robin pauses, then continues, "But he will know."

***

_A shattered body lies on a clean white bed in a clean room. He stares through its eyes and knows its pain, but he is a visitor, a dispassionate observer inside its mind._

_A familiar figure stands over the body, setting its bones and cleaning its wounds. It knows this man, and tries to reach for him, but its arms are dead weight. Desperately, it whispers, "Father."_

_The man looks down. "No, Master Bruce," he says. "I am not your father. He was a great man and a great surgeon, much greater than I."_

_He removes his gloves. "I have done all I can. Perhaps if I was your father, I could do more. Perhaps I could treat the root cause of all of this. For I can set your bones and clean your wounds over and over again, but it is your soul that is damaged, and these wounds are merely the symptoms. If I was your father, perhaps there would be a way for me to get inside your heart and mend it. But I am not skilled enough."_

_He sighs and puts away his surgical tools. "Your body will heal, but then you will wake, and then it will not be long before you are here again. Perhaps if I was your father, I could do more. But you have no father, and I have no son."_

***

"Bruce! Are you asleep or something?"

He shakes his head. "Something strange is happening to me. I keep having these waking dreams…"

"Never mind that," Robin interrupts. "Someone's coming. I think it's him."

Bruce blinks and turns, waiting. Hurried footsteps increase in volume in the corridor outside, and Dent appears outside their cell. He reaches into the pocket of a jacket and withdraws some keys. He looks at Bruce with the eye on the unburned side of his face, while the other stares aimlessly behind Bruce.

"My name is Harvey Dent, and I'm here to release you," he tells them. "Go quickly; Talia will realize I'm missing soon and come looking for me. She's the champion of the League of Shadows – I'm no match for her in combat."

"You're letting us go?" Bruce asks suspiciously.

Dent nods. "The man who imprisoned you wasn't me. I know who you are, and I know that you are the one who can defeat the Shadow King. You have to go; your comrades are in the next cell block. I'll give you the keys."

Bruce frowns. "Comrades? But there was only Selina."

Turning the key in the cell door, Dent explains, "The League of Shadows raided the village of Arkham not long ago, searching for anyone with information about you. They captured the sheriff of the village."

"Gordon."

"Yes." Dent opens the door. "There was also an old man, a former servant of your parents. But he was taken by your impostor, and I'm afraid he may be in grave danger."

"My impostor?" Bruce asks.

Dent regards him coolly with one eye. "Yes. Your parents' manor has been occupied recently by a man who claims to be you. He's an avaricious, amoral man who is a disgrace to your parents' memory. Tonight he'll be having one of his debaucherous masquerade parties; you may be able to enter the manor undetected."

There is movement in the periphery of Bruce's vision. He whirls and seizes Robin by the arm.

"Let me go," Robin growls, clutching a large, sharp rock in one hand, trembling with rage. "I don't want to hurt you too."

"Do as he says," Dent says, drawing an ornate sword. He kneels and presents the blade to Robin. "I know who you are as well, young man, and I know what's been done to you. Take your revenge; it may be your only chance."

Bruce looks between Dent and the boy, then releases his grip. He stares into Robin's eyes for a moment. There is furious anger, and confusion. Robin sets the rock down, then slowly walks to Dent and takes the sword. Dent bows his head, quietly anticipating the impending blow.

Robin raises the sword above Dent's neck. His muscles tense.

_He's going to do it! _Bruce thinks, agitated. Every instinct screams to him to stop Robin, but he allows the matter of honour to be resolved between the two.

Robin waits for a long moment, then lowers the blade. "This is not justice. This is murder. I won't have it happen this way."

Dent stands and puts his hand on Robin's shoulder. "You are an honourable man. But you'll be avenged anyway. Neither I nor your parents' murderer will live past this day."

"What are you talking about?" Robin asks.

Glancing down the corridor, Dent says, "You're running out of time. Go! I'll confront Talia and buy you what time I can."

"Come with us. You can help us," Bruce protests.

The unscarred side of Dent's face smiles. "I think I'd be more of a liability to you. In any case, this is my final victory over Two-Face. He thinks himself a king, but I know that we're nothing more than pawns. My journey across the board is complete. Go now – you will find your equipment in the room at the end of the corridor."

Robin returns the sword to Dent, and Bruce faces the noble, disfigured man. "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten. When Gotham is free, you will be remembered as a hero."

Dent nods. "That's my final victory against him."

Footsteps echo from far down the corridor. "Go," Dent bids them, and walks toward the approaching footsteps, sword drawn. Bruce turns to Robin, and they hurry in the opposite direction.

They enter the next cell block, and Bruce scans the cells for Selina.

"Bruce!" calls Selina. "Over here!"

He follows her voice to a nearby cell where Selina and Gordon sit, both clad in black tunics. Bruce turns the key and opens the door, and Selina rushes out and embraces him. He kisses her deeply, then whispers, "Hurry; we don't have much time."

She gestures to Gordon, who is struggling to his feet. Bruce rushes to his side and helps him to his feet.

"Thanks, Bruce," Gordon says. "Our hosts were fairly… aggressive in their questioning."

"I didn't expect to see you here," Bruce tells him, putting his arm around the injured sheriff.

Gordon limps out the cell door. "I think it amused them to keep me together with the scourge of Arkham."

Selina glances back at them and smirks. Bruce says, "Quickly. Our equipment is in the room at the end of this hallway."

Selina and Robin rush ahead, while Bruce walks briskly with Gordon.

"Help me!" calls a voice. He turns to see a man in a nearby cell, reaching through the bars in desperation. He is gaunt and pale, and somehow, Bruce cannot discern any facial features.

"Gordon," Bruce murmurs, "look."

"What?" Gordon asks, staring blankly.

Then the corridor erupts into a chorus of pleading, faceless prisoners, all reaching through the bars of their cell doors as the colours of the hallway begin to melt into a sea of grey.

His pulse pounding, Bruce says to Gordon, "We have to help them!"

"Who?" Gordon asks.

"The other prisoners!"

"They're safer where they are!" Gordon looks backwards. "Bruce, there's someone coming! Hurry!"

Taking a breath, Bruce focuses his vision upon the end of the corridor, and they rush through, reaching a door at the end of the hall. They enter a small, cluttered, torch-lit room which seems to Bruce to be a jailer's office. On the far end of the room is a stairway leading upwards. Robin and Selina are waiting, and they quickly shut the door and slide a heavy desk in front of it.

"That won't hold them for long," Robin says.

Selina looks around. "Our equipment must be here somewhere. Let's find it and get out of here."

Thoughts swirl through Bruce's head, and he recites a mantra to calm himself. In a corner of the room, he sees a pile of crates.

"Here," he tells them. They open the crates and search, and the light of the torch glints off his mirrored breastplate from within one of the boxes. As he lifts it out, the doorknob rattles, followed by the sound of metal striking wood.

"They're here," Robin says nervously.

Selina takes her armour and weapons. "Once we get out, I know somewhere we can hide."

"Then let's go!" Bruce says, leading them upwards.

***

_At first, it is a single sound, but then he can discern the noise of a thousand furiously beating wings._

_Bats._

_It is dark, and they are everywhere. He is a child, an intruder in their domain, and he has disturbed their tranquility. Now they are everywhere, chittering and flapping madly, a great black cloud swirling above his head like the darkness itself come to life._

_He recalls a time when he might have been disturbed by this spectacle of the night, but now he embraces it. _I am the darkness_, he thinks to himself. _I am fear. I am the bat.

_And he spreads his arms, and the bats swirl around him._

***

He opens his eyes and exclaims, "I understand!"

Selina turns to him. "What?"

He looks around. He is sitting cross-legged on the floor in a dark basement, a safe-house which Selina used long ago. Gordon is resting on an old mattress, and Robin is examining a dagger.

Bruce blinks. "I thought I understood for a minute, but now it's gone."

"Understood what?" Selina asks him, sitting close to him.

He looks at her. "I'm having waking dreams. And back in the dungeon, I had this… call it a vision. I was surrounded by faceless men, and everything started losing focus."

She knits her brow. "That's strange."

"It's not the first time. I remember, back in Arkham, everyone seemed faceless, indistinct. I didn't think anything of it at the time – I just took it for granted. But now I see how strange everything is getting." He looks into her eyes. "What if none of this is real?"

She takes his hand and leans forward. "I feel something for you that I know is real."

He is silent for a moment. "So do I."

"Hey!" Robin interrupts. "I don't want to interrupt your triumphant reunion, but the League of Shadows is still after us. We need a plan."

Bruce turns to him. "'We?'"

"Well, yeah," the boy answers. "I mean, I figure we're a lot safer as a group. And I have nowhere else to go."

Grinning slightly, Bruce says, "I would be honoured if you would join us."

Robin looks down. "Yeah, yeah. Now, I was thinking, didn't you mention that there was some kind of superman here who's on our side?"

Bruce looks to Selina, who replies, "He should be in Gotham, but I have no idea how to find him."

There is a moment of silence, and then Bruce calls in a loud voice, "Kal-el!"

More silence, and then a powerful gust of wind blows through the basement, and Kal-el is standing before them, his blue robe flapping lightly.

"You've arrived in Gotham," he observes.

Selina and Bruce glance at each other, and she raises an eyebrow. Turning to Kal-el, he says, "Yes. And we have a companion who's injured."

Kal-el sees Gordon. He approaches the sheriff and lays his hands upon him.

Gordon's eyes widen, and he climbs to his feet, then walks briskly in a circle. Facing Kal-el, he asks, "How did you do that?"

"The capacity for healing is in everyone," Kal-el tells him. "It just needs to be awakened."

"Kal-el," Bruce says, "There is a friend of mine who's in danger. I believe he may be at my parents' manor."

The superman's expression darkens. "Then the impostor has him, and he hasn't long."

"We'll have to get into the manor somehow. Can you get us in undetected?"  
"Possibly."

Robin looks up. "Dent said there was a masquerade party happening tonight. Won't that make it easy to sneak in, if everyone's in costume?"

"Maybe," Selina answers. "But where will we get costumes?"

Robin glances toward the centre of the room. Bruce and Selina follow his gaze to the small table where they had placed their armour.

"Costumes," says Bruce.

***

They are in a hall, and the hall is filled with fools.

Bruce, in his mirrored armour, and Selina, in her black Cat Woman gear, did not raise even a single eyebrow entering the manor. The guards seemed not to notice them among the parade of masked, brightly-costumed aristocrats.

Now they are in the main hall, and it is truly phantasmagorical to behold, Bruce thinks. The floor is black and white tile, and the evening light streams through large windows, each covered by a semi-translucent curtain of a different colour. Throughout the room, lamps supplement the filtered sunlight, casting their light through shades of different colours, and the polychromatic light, combined with the revellers and their bright costumes, gives the room the appearance of a slowly shifting kaleidoscope.

Strains of oddly dissonant music emanate from a string quartet in a corner of the hall. Tables are interspersed throughout the room, and there is an array of food and fine wines. At the far end of the room is a raised platform with a throne and two smaller chairs on each side.

"Do you think Kal-el and the others got inside?" Selina whispers as they navigate between masked partygoers.

"I suspect so," Bruce answers. "If they're holding Alfred somewhere in the building, they'll find him."

"What about this so-called impostor? What do we know about him?"

"Not much yet," whispers Bruce, and the music stops. "But I think that's about to change."

The guests are turning towards the throne now, and Bruce peers between masks. A door opens, and a jester clad in a purple and red leotard emerges. She is petite and muscular, and bells ring from her headdress. Disturbingly, her face is completely covered by a half-red, half-black wooden mask without holes for her mouth or eyes, and around her neck is a necklace of small, black skulls. She dances across the throne platform holding a sign that reads, "Applause."

The guests clap, and Bruce and Selina join them. The dancer sits in the chair on the left, and the door opens once more and a figure emerges. He wears an ornate purple robe, with green hair and pallid, grey skin. He grins hideously and waves to the crowd.

"The Joker," Bruce snarls.

"Who?" Selina asks.

"I would recognize that face anywhere."

"Bruce," she says in a low voice, "it's a mask. Or else he's wearing make-up or something."

He looks at the laughing madman. "No," he says. "That's his real face."

The Joker raises his hand, and there is silence. Then he drinks from a goblet and eyes the partygoers. Red liquid runs down his chin, and he licks it up with a long, black tongue.

"Friends," he announces, "welcome to tonight's masquerade ball. I'm pleased to see so many of you here, because tonight is a very special night."

He pauses, chuckling to himself, then continues, "For, you see, it is the dawning of a brand new age!"

A murmur runs through the crowd, and the Joker grins malevolently, his eyes flitting back and forth. Then he says loudly, "Some of you may have heard the news. If not, I'll fill you in: early this morning, Harvey Dent was murdered by the League of Shadows."

The chatter in the crowd increases in volume. Bruce watches with folded arms, occasionally meeting Selina's eye.

"That," the Joker continues, and the crowd falls silent once more, "is no surprise. We all knew that 'His Maudlin Majesty' would tire of Harvey's games sooner or later. But, ladies and gentlemen, there's more to it than that. You see, Harvey stood for a lot in this town. He symbolized everything that was good, and everything that was _rotten_. And with him out of the way, this town's going to… explode!"

The Joker extends his hand, and a firecracker shoots out from his sleeve. It soars over the crowd, leaving a trail of purple sparks, and explodes above the crowd into a shower of green and purple, eliciting gasps and screams from the partygoers.

"Heh heh," the Joker chuckles. "Thought you'd like that." His smile melts as the guests talk noisily among themselves, and he shouts, "Hey! Pay attention to me NOW!"

The last syllable gains their attention once more, and the Joker's grin returns. "Now then. I think we all know what's going to happen once word gets out. The poor, little, oppressed people of Gotham are going to go out into the streets and start some sort of brouhaha. And the League, being obsessed with maintaining law and order, are going to come down _hard_. Bottom line is, nobody's gonna be safe."

He takes a few steps forward, and a few of the guests back nervously away from him. "Now, I don't want to kill the buzz, so here's what I propose: let's keep the party going until they all wipe each other out. Then we can go back out, and take Gotham for ourselves!"

The guests begin to murmur approvingly. The Joker's grin widens, and he continues, "Because, you see, it's not just Harvey that died today. Good and evil died with him! And once the dust settles, it'll be the dawn of a new era in Gotham. An era of nothing but the senses, of _delicious decadence!_" He licks his lips. "All you high-society types know what I'm talking about. No more looking over your shoulders in case the assassins are watching. No more of that terribly depressing poverty stuff. No more need to be constrained by reason, by rules. There's only us now, and we can damn well do as we please!"

The crowd begins to cheer, and Bruce tries to slowly make his way to the front, with Selina close behind. After a moment, the Joker taps his goblet with a long, serrated knife.

"Listen, everybody," he calls out. "In times like these, changes in society are always anticipated by the artists. And, as you all know, I consider myself nothing if not an _artiste_. As such, I've prepared something for you all. A piece of performance art, if you like. Harley, if you would bring the canvas, please?"

The dancer disappears for a moment through the door, then returns with Alfred, naked, gagged, and blindfolded with a purple cloth. The partygoers gasp, and Bruce tenses, slowly reaching for a boomerang.

The Joker grins even more widely. "Some of you may recognize our canvas as a former servant of myself and my parents. Yes, you could even call him a close family friend. I feel that a history like that adds a certain… poignancy to a piece like this."

He holds his serrated knife, and there is another gasp. "For you see, the _ancien régime _and its farcical values are no more! They have no hold over us! Long live freedom! _Long live art!_"

He raises the knife over his head, and Bruce calls out, "No."

The Joker freezes, and his eyes flit to Bruce and widen. "You?" he shrieks. "How did you get here! Get him! Somebody get him and bring him to me!"

The partygoers withdraw and form a circle around Bruce and Selina, who assume a defensive stance, watching for any of the costumed guests foolish enough to attempt an attack. In the corner of Bruce's eye, there is movement, and he whirls and seizes a red-costumed, knife-wielding man by the arm. With one movement, he dislocates the man's arm and throws him to the ground. The man howls in pain, and the other guests take several steps back.

"Very well, then," the Joker says, eyeing his guests. "It looks like none of you are willing to put your miserable lives on the line for our new order. I can't say I'm surprised. That's why I took the pre-emptive step of poisoning the wine. You'll start to feel it shortly, and then we can really start having a good time!"

A chorus of voices erupts as the guests begin demanding answers from the Joker, whose voice is drowned amid the hubbub. Bruce nods to Selina, and they begin to edge around the crowd towards the Joker.

It is not long before the pandemonium reaches fever pitch and a gang of partygoers rushes the Joker, who draws back. The purple-clad dancer bounds in front of him, now armed with a heavy flail. She spins her weapon in front of her, then quickly strikes two guests, killing them in a spray of blood. Their confidence shaken, the guests turn and run for the exit, only to find it blocked and guarded by the Joker's retainers. In the cacophony of screams, Bruce can hear some of the guests beginning to chuckle uncontrollably. _The poison,_ he thinks.

Seizing his opportunity, Bruce charges. The Joker suddenly whirls, holding his serrated blade to Alfred's throat, causing Bruce to stop in his tracks.

"So the Dream Knight has come to crash my party." He grins. "You thought you'd bring your nightmare to an end, but it hasn't even begun!"

"Let him go," Bruce commands.

"Fair enough. I'm not interested in hostage games anyway. The only good hostage is a dead one!" Bruce's heart stops as the Joker's muscles tense, but before he can cut Alfred's throat, a hand reaches from behind the Joker and grips the knife firmly by the blade.

"You talk too much," Kal-el says, throwing the knife upwards where it lodges firmly in the high ceiling. The dancer springs towards him, but he catches her in mid-air. In a blur of motion too fast for Bruce to follow, he has tied the Joker and the harlequin to the nearby chairs with thick cords.

Bruce helps Alfred up, removes his blindfold and gag, and covers him with a tapestry from the wall. Blinking, Alfred looks at him and says, "Thank you for coming for me."

"You were there when I needed someone," Bruce tells him, embracing the old man. He turns to Kal-el, who is now flanked by Gordon and Robin. "That was good timing."

"Yeah, well, we've got more problems on the way," Robin says as Kal-el stares distractedly at the panicking guests, many of whom are now beginning to laugh uncontrollably. "The League of Shadows is coming."

"How many assassins?" Bruce asks.

Robin hesitates. "All of them."

Bruce's throat tightens. "We need to get out of here."

"That is not an option," Kal-el says, scanning the hall. "They have us surrounded. And these people need help."

"This filth doesn't deserve our help," Selina growls. "They had no qualms about the Joker's plans until they found out he poisoned them. They didn't even try to stop him from murdering Alfred in front of them."

"I must help them," Kal-el says. "I can teach them the ways of righteousness by example."

"Help us fight the assassins first," Bruce tells him. "Otherwise, we'll all die."

"Very well. Not surprisingly, the Joker's poison will take up to an hour to kill its victims after the symptoms start – a cruel, slow-acting toxin. But we must defeat the League swiftly."

Selina regards him quizzically. "I thought you swore an oath against violence!"

He turns to her. "When faced with the choice between violence and cowardice, one must choose courage."

The hysterical laughter of the crowd is a now a roar. Above the din, Bruce shouts, "Selina, Kal-el and I will face the League. Gordon, Robin, protect Alfred, and see if you can find somewhere safe for him. When you do, come help us."

"Good luck to you," Gordon says, drawing a sword.

"And to you," Bruce replies.

As if on cue, a number of windows shatter, and assassins descend by rope into the hall. Simultaneously, the front door of the hall collapses and a large group of assassins enters. Bruce takes Selina's hand, and Kal-el takes a flying leap to the other end of the room. As he soars over the crowd of gasping, laughing guests, a cloud of ice forms around him, giving him the appearance of a flying comet. He lands hard in the middle of a group of assassins, freezing them solid.

"That's nine down, ninety to go," Selina observes. She draws her whip. "Come on, help me find that bitch Talia. Dent said she's the League's champion; if we can defeat her, maybe we can break their morale."

"Let's go," Bruce agrees.

Beyond a cluster of laughing aristocrats, a pair of assassins spot Bruce and Selina. A well-placed boomerang between armour plates fells one, and Selina is upon the second before he can react. Bruce sees Selina plunge her claws towards him, splattering his blood on the floor around them.

She stands and faces him, her face flecked with blood. "I hope you're not going to get all Kal-el on me."

He avoids looking at the ruined corpse on the floor. "Don't kill them unless you have no other choice."

Unnatural lights flash from what has become a large melee as the assassins converge upon Kal-el. The ground is littered with frozen, injured, and otherwise incapacitated assassins, and Kal-el is like a wrathful deity, leaping into the air periodically to deliver blasts of frost or bursts of wind to fell many assassins at once. Bruce pauses for a moment to watch the awe-inspiring spectacle until Selina hisses, "There she is."

He follows her gaze to a black-clad figure stalking among the throngs of hysterical noblemen, some of whom are now beginning to vomit uncontrollably. Selina lowers her head and moves to follow her prey. Bruce begins to follow before noticing a flash of purple on the periphery of his vision. Instinctively, he dives forward, and a heavy, spiked ball whizzes above his head. He rolls in time to see the Joker's harlequin standing over him, flail in hand.

_Somehow, she got loose,_ he thinks, rolling to his feet. _Which means the Joker will be loose as well._

He draws his large boomerang and holds it before him, keeping a good distance between himself and the whirling ball and chain. The dancer's movements are erratic and unpredictable, yet possess an eerie grace that belies exceptional physical control. He tries to focus upon her qi, but it is as though she has none. Her body twitches, and beneath her eyeless mask, he imagines that he can hear mad laughter.

She swings her flail, and he steps backwards. The flail continues its arc, and she pirouettes, her foot grazing his side. There is a sharp pain, and he notices the small blades protruding from her dancer's slippers. He realizes that the blade cut through his armour almost effortlessly and had drawn blood.

The flail comes around again, and he falls back. Then she springs forward, bringing the flail over her head. He dives backwards once more, and the flail crashes to the floor, shattering the tiles. Without wasting any energy, she flips over the spiked ball, catching his head between her thighs. He stumbles under the extra weight, nearly tripping over a costumed man doubled over in a paroxysm of laughter. The harlequin suddenly jerks her legs, and Bruce twists his body hard to the side in order to avoid her breaking his neck. He falls to the ground, and she lands on her hands beside him, then brings her bladed feet down. He rolls to the side, hears the blades break on the tiles, and allows himself a sigh of relief.

He climbs quickly to his feet and rushes towards her before she can raise her flail again, knowing that the weapon will be ineffective at such short range. With his boomerang in his left hand, he keeps her flail at bay, and swings his other fist towards her face. But her reflexes are almost impossibly fast, and she grabs his arm and drives her fingers through a soft part of his gauntlet to a pressure point in his wrist. Pins and needles shoot up his arm, and it falls uselessly to his side. Then she strikes him hard in the face with her mask, and the bells on her hood jingle as sparks erupt underneath his eyes. He staggers backwards.

As she lifts her ball and chain, Bruce becomes aware of a presence behind him. He thrusts the elbow of his good arm backwards into the solar plexus of a nunchaku-wielding assassin. Swiftly, Bruce seizes his assailant's weapon and brings it upward, wrapping it around the chain of the flail. Pulling backward, he tears the flail from her hand and throws it behind him near the crumpled body of the stunned assassin. With an inhuman screech, she lunges for him, her long fingers reaching for his eyes. But sensation has returned to his right arm now, and he holds his boomerang by both ends and brings it upwards, deflecting her arms, and brings his knee into her gut. She howls, then thrashes her head forward violently, breaking his combat boomerang in two with her wooden mask. Her face plunges forward once more, but he thrusts the broken halves of his boomerang forward, burying them in her abdomen.

The harlequin shrieks and begins to kick towards him in wide circles, a ghastly death pirouette, blood pouring from her wounds. The broken edge of one of the blades on her feet whizzes close to his face, and he backs away from the dancer. Gradually, she begins to lose speed, and then she collapses on the tiles in a pool of blood, her lithe body still.

Bruce pauses for a moment to catch his breath, then scans the hall for Selina. He sees her locked in combat with Talia, who is wielding a long katana sword. Selina is fighting recklessly, and Bruce notices that she is leaving herself open to attack. He rushes towards them as Talia kicks Selina to the ground and raises her sword to strike. But the stroke never falls; the red tip of a sword has suddenly emerged from Talia's chest. She drops her katana and falls to the ground, revealing Gordon standing behind her.

Selina climbs to her feet, smiling when she sees Bruce. He says to her, "That was quite the risk you took."

"Oh, come on, Bruce, you know I have better technique than that. I knew Gordon was coming, so I distracted her."

"But how did you know Gordon would save your life?"

She turns to the sheriff, who is examining Talia's katana. "Because I know a good man when I see one," she tells him.

Gordon smiles slightly. "Who would have thought two former enemies would make such a team?" To Bruce, he says, "Alfred's hiding not far from here. Did Robin find you?"

"No," Bruce says, scanning the hall. His eyes are drawn to Kal-el, who is standing in the midst of what is by now a sea of incapacitated assassins. He is pursuing a few remaining attackers, and seizes one by the shoulder. His body stiffens, and he crumples to the floor.

"Kal-el," a deep voice booms.

The superman whirls to face a figure standing in the doorway. He is tall, broad, and appears to be made out of the darkness itself. Two tall horns rise from his head in the same manner as the assassins' masks, giving him the appearance of a great bat. Flanked by a handful of assassins, he stands before Kal-el, a tall, mournful tower of night.

_The Shadow King,_ Bruce realizes.

Kal-el hurtles towards the newcomer, who swiftly draws a massive, green, glowing blade, and swings it in a wide arc. Kal-el's body drops to the floor by the Shadow King's feet, and his head lands nearby.

Bruce's stomach clenches. Selina watches in stunned silence. Gordon looks between them and says nervously, "He hasn't seen us yet. Maybe we should regroup and decide what to do next."

Selina and Bruce nod. Keeping low, they weave between clusters of hysterical victims of the Joker's poisoning. Behind them, the Shadow King calls to his remaining assassins, "This is a house of decadence. Burn it to the ground."

Bruce watches as the assassins begin to take the lamps to the walls and curtains. He whispers to Gordon and Selina, "We need to find Alfred and Robin."

"Alfred's in the hallway by the throne," Gordon tells them.

Smoke is already beginning to fill the air as they cross the hall. Suddenly, Selina puts her hand on Bruce's arm. "Look."

The Joker is sitting on the throne once more, his purple robes splattered with blood, holding a large, bloody sceptre and grinning maniacally. At his feet is Robin, bloodied and crumpled. He sees them and reaches with a trembling hand.

"Dream Knight," the boy calls, wheezing.

And, surrounded by smoke, death, and laughter, Bruce falls to his knees and begins to dream.

**To Be Concluded.**


	7. Enlightenment

**Here it is: the conclusion of the saga of the Dream Knight! I hope you enjoy reading it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. In this chapter, everything will be resolved, and the Dream Knight will come to know the true nature of his existence. Or will he?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any DC characters. **

**Dream Knight**

**Chapter 7: Enlightenment**

_That these heroes are nearly always wanderers is a psychologically clear symbolism. The wandering is a representation of longing, of the ever-restless desire, which nowhere finds its object, for, unknown to itself, it seeks the lost mother… But the myth of the hero, however, is, as it appears to me, the myth of our own suffering unconscious, which has an unquenchable longing for the deepest sources of our own being…_

_- _C. G. Jung_,_

_Psychology of the Unconscious_

_ Bruce is dreaming._

_ He is alone in a dark, cavernous room. The silence is punctuated by the distant, familiar dripping of water and the hum of the electric light before him, which illuminates a single display case. The case holds a red and yellow costume, tattered and stained by young blood._

_He stares into the display case, his retinas adjusting to the light, until the dim lighting of his surroundings becomes total darkness. The costume is the only thing in his world now, and he kneels before it, staring at it with desperation in his eyes like the petty criminals do in the face of justice._

_He closes his eyes then, and the young man is there. He is always there, bloodied and dead in his arms._

_Bruce shudders, then opens his eyes once more._

No,_ he thinks. _Not this time.

_There is a hand on his shoulder and he turns around. The figure before him seems to be almost luminous in the semi-darkness, with the blue of his costume, the red of his cape, and the distinctive "S" logo seeming to generate light of their own._

"_You are not supposed to be here," Bruce says. "You're dead. I watched you die. How is it that you are here, in my inner sanctum?"_

"_I'm just passing through," says Kal-el. "But I have something to show you. Follow me."_

_Bruce follows the superman away from the bloodied uniform into the elevator leading up into Wayne Manor. Kal-el leads him up stairway after stairway into the highest loft in the manor. There he opens the window and climbs onto the roof, with Bruce following close behind. Kal-el stops on the roof, staring at the twinkling lights of the Gotham City skyline._

_Bruce recognizes the skyscrapers, remembers the labyrinth of iron and glass through which he ran night after night. He says, "This is my city."_

"_Yes," Kal-el replies. "Gotham City. But it is not the only one."_

_Bruce nods. "There is also the other Gotham, the one ruled by the Shadow King."_

"_And there are many others. Even I cannot count them all. Perhaps they are infinite."_

_Bruce and Kal-el stand in silence for a moment, gazing at the city in the distance. Then Bruce says, "I have to go back to that other Gotham. They need me there. There's a whole roomful of people who need me. Robin needs me."_

"_Yes," Kal-el agrees. "There are many who need you. And I can help you one last time. I will evaporate my body and nullify the Joker's poison. His victims will escape the hall; it is up to you to save your friends."_

_Bruce nods in understanding, staring silently at Gotham. Then he asks, "Where do you come from?"_

_Kal-el is silent for a moment. "Where do you think I come from?"_

"_I suspect that even if you tried to explain it to me, I still wouldn't understand."_

"_That is probably true."_

_Bruce hesitates. "That woman I met. Lois Lane. Did you really love her?"_

"_With all my heart. Letting go of her was the hardest thing I have ever had to do." He turns to Bruce, and there is something different in his face. The stern, proud features have softened, and the ageless eyes, full of wisdom, now show profound emotion. "Do you love Selina?"_

"_Yes." He breathes deeply. "I do love her."_

"_Then take my advice. There will always be evil in the world, and there will always be need for a champion to stand against it. But allow yourself to experience happiness; it is fleeting and must be savoured."_

_Bruce does not answer him. Staring at the city, he says, "I have to go back."_

"_Then go."_

* * *

"What's the matter, Brucie? Got nothing to say?"

Bruce looks up at the Joker, staring him in the eyes. Around him, amid the smoke of the burning room, the maniacal laughter of the poisoned aristocrats ceases. The Joker, surprised, looks around. "What's the matter? Why'd everybody get so serious all of a sudden?"

"It's over, Joker," Bruce says sternly. "Release Robin."

The Joker cackles. "You could say I've already released him! Set him free from the mortal coil!" His expression darkens. "He's _dead._" And he laughs again.

Bruce steps forward, staring at Robin's battered, motionless body. Gordon and Selina stand back, watching cautiously, their hands on their weapons. "He's alive, Joker."

"Ha ha ha! I doubt that. You killed him, Bruce! You allowed this to happen. He's dead because of you!"

Ignoring the madman, Bruce says to Robin, "Stand up. We need to go."

The Joker continues to cackle, but Bruce focuses upon Robin, extending his hand to the boy. Slowly, weakly, Robin stirs, and his eyes flutter open. His strength returning, he reaches forward and takes Bruce's hand, climbing to his feet.

The Joker stops laughing. "What? No! That's not how it's supposed to happen!"

"You've been beaten, Joker. If you want to live, I suggest you leave this place. Don't ever let me see your face again."

The Joker's eyes flit back and forth, laughing nervously. Then he lunges at Bruce, swinging his bloody sceptre. Bruce seizes it in mid-swing and throws it aside, catching the Joker by the throat. Pulling him in close, he snarls, "Get out of my sight. Next time I see you, I might not be so merciful."

He throws the clown to the floor. Sputtering and choking, the Joker gasps, "Don't you understand? You can never get away from me. We're the same."

"We are not the same," Bruce says, moving towards the Joker, who scrambles away.

He turns to Robin. "Are you alright?"

There is a glazed look in Robin's eyes, and he struggles to remain on his feet. "I know who you are!" he says to Bruce in a shaking voice. "You _are _the Dream Knight! I understand now!"

"Shh," Bruce hushes him. "We'll talk about that later. We're running out of time."

There is a procession moving towards the exit of the mansion now, hurrying to escape the flames. There are guests, who shuffle as though sleepwalking, and among them are the assassins Kal-el incapacitated. They, too, have returned to their feet and now seek refuge from the fire.

A beam from the ceiling crashes to the floor, sending a cloud of sparks into the air. Bruce turns to his companions. "We need to go. Where is Alfred?"

"I know where he is," Robin says, standing on his own now. "But can we get him in time?"

Bruce removes his multicoloured cape and hands it to Robin. "Take this. Its magic will protect you from fire. Go quickly; we'll meet outside."

Robin nods, dons the cape, and rushes through the nearby door into the hallways beyond. Selina puts a hand on Bruce's shoulder and says, "Come on, let's get out of here."

And they follow the crowd through the doorway out of the burning building and into the courtyard beyond. The flames intensify as Wayne Manor burns behind them in the twilight. After a long moment, Robin and Alfred emerge, running, both shrouded in Bruce's cape.

"Good work," Bruce says to Robin. To Alfred, "Glad to see you again, old friend."

Alfred smiles. Robin removes the cape and holds it in front of Bruce. "I guess you'll be wanting this back?"

"No," Bruce says. "Keep it. Gotham will still have need of a caped crusader."

Robin examines the cape, smiling in spite of himself. Gordon asks Bruce, "What are you going to do?"

He replies, "I am going to defeat the Shadow King once and for all."

* * *

They walk slowly towards the Shadow King's castle on the outskirts of Gotham, a procession made up of Bruce, Selina, Alfred, Gordon, and Robin, followed by an ever-shifting crowd of followers.

After escaping Wayne Manor, Bruce had addressed the survivors. The assassins were gone, leaving the aristocrats milling in a confused cluster. Once they learned that Bruce was the true heir of Gotham, they had fallen to their knees and pledged allegiance to him, swearing they would join him in his march on the Shadow King's castle. But as he glances behind him, he realizes the crowd has thinned. He is not surprised.

Nevertheless, as they march, they encounter more citizens of Gotham. The Joker had been right about Gotham; when Dent died, pandemonium ensued as the city's inhabitants rose up after years of oppression. But the response from the League of Shadows never came, and the uprising gradually became a destructive riot. Still, as Bruce and his entourage pass through, many fall in step and join the march upon the Shadow King's castle, sensing change in the air.

Robin falls in step beside Bruce. "Thanks back there," he says, "for saving my life."

"I couldn't let you die," Bruce says to the young man.

"Well, I mean, technically…"

"No," Bruce interrupts. Then he looks into the young man's eyes. "I am impressed, though, that you've figured it out."

"That I know what it means that you're the Dream Knight? Yeah, well, not to blow my own horn or anything, but I'm a pretty good detective, I think. I honed my skills against Two-Face and his criminals, and it wasn't too much of a stretch to shift from the criminal world to the… I guess you'd call it the metaphysical."

"I'm impressed anyway," Bruce tells him. "How do you feel about it?"

"I think I'm handling it better than you are," Robin responds. "No offence."

Bruce exhales slowly, then says, "You're right. I've gradually pieced it together myself, but I still don't feel like I completely believe it. That this is all a dream."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

He pauses. "I don't know yet. For now, we confront the Shadow King."

They are drawing near to the tall, ominous black tower that is the castle of the Shadow King. Torches burn within its windows and on its walls, illuminating it against the night sky.

There is a large town square in front of the castle walls, and a large crowd has gathered, holding torches and chanting angrily. Within the crowd, dark figures move. As Bruce and his procession approach, they stop chanting suddenly, face Bruce, and fall to their knees. One of the black-clad figures emerges from the crowd; a female assassin of the League of Shadows, wearing the armour of the black bat. She walks towards Bruce and genuflects before him.

"King Bruce Wain, the Dream Knight of Gotham, we pledge our allegiance to you," she says. "My assassins and I have felt the power of the Superman, our true master. We have renounced the Shadow King and will now serve the House of Wain once more as the Justice League."

_So they're on our side now,_ Bruce thinks, relieved. Looking down at the woman, he asks her, "Are you the captain of these warriors?"

"Yes," she says. "I am called Huntress. And it was we, the Justice League, who rallied these citizens against the Shadow King."

He regards the mob, then the castle. "Where is the Shadow King?"

"He has barricaded himself inside his castle with his few remaining loyal assassins. He knows that his time has come. We are ready to storm the castle. All we await is your order."

And suddenly, Bruce becomes aware that all eyes are upon him – the crowds with their indistinct faces, the kneeling assassins and the Huntress, Gordon, Alfred, Robin. And, as ever, Selina's green eyes that see into his soul. There is an unnatural silence in the square, and the full moon shines from a clear sky as if even the world itself was watching him.

Gordon moves closer. "I think you should say something."

"What can I say?" he whispers.

"I don't know," he says, glancing at the multitudes. "But you're the leader here. You have to say something."

The sheriff backs away, and Bruce takes a deep breath.

"People of Gotham," he says in a loud voice, "our long night is over. For too long, we have lived in fear. We have lived in fear of the darkness, of the streets of a city that is rightfully ours. We have lived in fear of a madman whose mindless, all-consuming quest for 'justice' has made us prisoners in our own homes. But no more.

"Years ago, my parents were murdered. I loved them. We all loved them. And their death has left a void in our hearts which may never be filled. But today, the heir of Gotham, the son of the house of Wain, has returned, and together, we will continue their work and fulfill their dream of a peaceful Gotham, a prosperous Gotham, a free Gotham!"

There is cheering from the crowd. He looks from face to featureless face.

"So join with me, and we will defeat the Shadow King. And I say this to our oppressor: listen closely, because you have until dawn to surrender yourself." He pauses for a moment. "Do you hear me? At dawn, we will come for you!"

There are murmurs within the crowd. Huntress steps forward and says, "My liege, you must know that the Shadow King will never voluntarily surrender himself. He and those loyal to him will fight to the death!"

Bruce nods. "That may be the case. Even so, we will demonstrate to him that we are capable of mercy. We are not like him!"

More cheering. Bruce raises his hand, and there is silence once more, all eyes fixated upon him.

"So join me as we bring about the new Gotham. Join me here at dawn. And those among you who are warriors: keep watch of the castle tonight. The Shadow King will not escape. We shall have our freedom!"

And there is a great cheer. Bruce allows himself to smile, then turns to Gordon.

"Very inspiring," Gordon tells him as the crowd begins to talk amongst itself.

"Thanks," Bruce says. He stares at the sheriff for a moment, then says, "Gordon, I'm going to need a chief of Gotham police. I need someone to co-ordinate with this so-called Justice League and make sure this doesn't become another reign of terror. And I think you're the man for the job."

Gordon's eyes widen. "Me? I mean… are you sure?"

"You're a man of integrity. You're the best person for the job, in my opinion. And with Harvey Dent gone, the people need a lawman they can trust. And I don't think they'll warm up to this Justice League easily."

The sheriff pauses. "I… I'll have to talk it over with Barbara… but I would be honoured."

Bruce bows his head. "It has been a privilege to know you, Gordon."

There is a moment of silence, and Gordon asks, "Are you going somewhere?"

"I need to meditate," Bruce tells him. "To prepare myself to confront the Shadow King."

Gordon nods. "Godspeed."

Bruce scans the crowd and spots Alfred and Robin. Meeting his eye, Robin steps forward.

"Nice speech," he says.

"Thank you." He glances at Alfred. "Robin, I want you to take care of him."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to meditate. I may not see you before I enter the fortress."

Robin nods in understanding. "And you might not see me afterwards either."

"I am not certain," he says.

"Alright," the young man responds, grinning slightly. "Good luck with whatever it is you have to do. Me, I'm just interested to see what happens next. It's going to be an awfully big adventure."

Alfred's hand is on Bruce's shoulder now, and Bruce faces the kindly old man. "Alfred, thanks for everything," he begins.

"Don't thank me now, Master Bruce, for we shall meet again soon."

"I hope so," Bruce says.

"I am certain that we will," Alfred tells him. "Now, get some rest, because I suspect that the most difficult part of your journey lies ahead. The Shadow King will not be easily overcome."

"I will," Bruce says. "Thanks to both of you."

He turns around, and Selina is there.

"Come with me," she says.

* * *

Selina takes him to a high castle wall, and produces a grappling hook and tosses it over the top of the wall. They climb over and find themselves in a courtyard, with the castle proper looming nearby.

She walks forward, taking a path that follows the outer wall, circling the castle. Bruce eyes the darkened courtyard suspiciously, wary of assassins.

"They won't trouble us," Selina says without turning around, as if reading his thoughts.

"How do you know?"

"They're waiting for us. For you. They want you to go to them."

Somehow, he knows she is right, and he continues to follow her until they reach a row of trees. They are behind the castle now, and it looms above them ominously.

Selina pauses, and Bruce asks her, "What is this?"

"It's a garden. The royal garden. It was planted by your parents. Come, let me show you."

She leads him through the trees, and soon they are in the garden. Beautiful trees surround them, and night-blooming violets grow in the grass below. There is a fountain spouting gently running water into a pond, and the full moon reflects on the rippling surface. A beautiful gazebo with wrought-iron railings stands to one side of the pond. There is no sound except for the water, and no light except for the moon and stars.

"The Shadow King kept this place well," Selina observes.

"It's beautiful," Bruce whispers.

"I've visited this place before," Selina tells him, "long ago. I thought you should see it before you… before you confront the Shadow King."

There is a sadness in her eyes. Bruce steps closer to her. "We're confronting him together."

She says softly, "No. I can't."

"What?" Bruce asks incredulously. "Why not? I need you, Selina."

She casts her eyes downwards. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Yes," he says. "Of course. We met in battle."

"I had been having dreams about you. Before we even met, I'd had dreams about a man in mirrored armour. The Dream Knight. So, after our first encounter, I went to the Oracle. And she told me that I would meet the Dream Knight who would confront the Shadow King. She told me that he would need me, that he wouldn't be able to complete his destiny without me. But she also told me that when the Dream Knight had to face the Shadow King alone, or else he would fail to complete his destiny."

Bruce is stunned. He stares at Selina. _If this is a dream,_ he thinks, _will she be there when I wake up? _And he cannot bring himself to think about the answer.

Instead, he takes her hand, saying, "Stay with me tonight, then. I will return after facing the Shadow King."

"Will you?" she asks, staring into his eyes. "Will you return?"

He takes a deep breath. "Yes. I will return to you, and we'll be together. I love you, Selina. I could never leave you."

And he pulls her close, and she kisses him deeply. They remove each other's armour and lie in the garden, making love in the pale moonlight among the grasses and violets. He promises her then that he will never leave her, that he will take her as his queen, and that they will live all their days together in Gotham. And as they climax together, he realizes that he is deeply happy, and that he truly cannot live without Selina.

* * *

"I had a dream just now," Selina whispers, lying her head upon Bruce's shoulder as he stares into the night sky.

He wraps his arms around her warm body. "What did you dream?"

Her eyelashes brush against his skin. "I dreamed that we were dancing. Except that it wasn't really you, and I don't think it was really me, either. But we were dancing together in our armour. Your armour was different – it was black, like the assassins' armour, with a black mask. I told you to take your mask off, but you wouldn't do it. And I tried to touch your skin, but it was all armour. I could tell that you were hurt. I could see it in your eyes. They were like a child's eyes, a child who's seen something terrible. And I knew then: the armour, the mask, the weapons – it was all to protect the child inside from being hurt again.

"I knew then that you couldn't love me, even though you wanted to. You couldn't love anyone. You'd been able to love once, but it had brought you so much pain that you could never open yourself up again. And so you hid behind your mask, and I saw you steal a glance outside the window into the night. I knew that's where your mind was – out in the night, fighting all the evildoers in your head."

He says nothing, but holds her more tightly.

"I know you have waking dreams these days. And I've wondered whether this could all be a dream."

Bruce says, "If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up. I'd rather live in a dream with you than be awake without you."

"But what if it isn't real?"

"Selina," he whispers, "you said once that what you feel for me is real. And I know that what I feel for you is real. It's more real than anything I've ever known. I can't let it go."

She puts her hand on his face. "Bruce, I'm afraid of what the Oracle said. She said if I was there when you confronted the Shadow King, you wouldn't fulfill your destiny. What if your destiny is to end the dream?"

He feels a tear run from her face and land on his shoulder. He says, "I could never do that. I'd sooner not be the Dream Knight, if that's my destiny."

They are silent for a long time, and then she says, "But you are the Dream Knight. You can't escape it."

"But it's always been my choice," he whispers, swallowing hard. "The Oracle said that."

"Maybe," she says softly. "But I think you must make the choice to be the Dream Knight. It's who you are. Just like in my dream – you wanted to love me, but couldn't escape who you were."

"I am not the man in your dream," Bruce protests, and his eyes begin to moisten as he recalls the Oracle's words. She had told him, _it is always your choice, and you will find it the most difficult choice that you will ever make._

_Difficult, _he thinks, _and cruel._

"I cannot do it," he says. He looks into her green eyes. "Selina, let's go somewhere. Some corner of Gotham that we can call our own. Some place where nobody will know who we are – where it will just be us."

She holds him tightly, and after a long moment, tells him, "No. You have to face the Shadow King. You have to be the Dream Knight. I can't let you do otherwise."

"No," he whispers, his voice wavering.

"Remember," she tells him, "you belong to me."

They are both crying now, and Bruce cannot bring himself to speak any more. They hold each other in the silent darkness for a long time.

Eventually, he realizes that she is asleep, and her breath becomes regular once more. The moon hangs above, and darkens for a moment as a cloud of bats flies across. He breathes deeply, inhaling the fragrances of the garden. It is strange and alien, overwhelming his senses, causing the grasses and flowers of the garden to swirl in shades of green and violet.

_Poison,_ he realizes. _Poison gas._

_The Joker._

He realizes now. The dream is so vivid, so real, that its unreality is the punch-line of the most cruel joke ever told. The Joker has poisoned him, and everything he has experienced has been a hallucination caused by the gas.

At that moment, he understands the task before him. Gently, softly, he rolls out from the sleeping Selina's arms. "Om mani padme hum," he recites softly to himself, focusing his thoughts upon donning his armour. As the dawn begins to break, he walks methodically out of the garden towards the Shadow King's fortress. He does not even allow himself a glance back at Selina, for he knows that his resolve will surely melt away.

* * *

It is not hard to break into the Shadow King's fortress. He moves silently through the corridors and up the staircases of the empty castle. Briefly, he wonders how to find the Shadow King, but then thinks to himself, _this is a hallucination. I will bring the Shadow King to me._

He turns a corner, and there is a large, ornate door, and he knows the Shadow King is behind it. He closes his eyes, recites a mantra, focuses his qi, and opens the door.

The chamber is large, with a high ceiling and Gothic-style architecture. A window on one side of the wall overlooks the city of Gotham, and two empty thrones stand in the back of the room. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the walls are lined with bookshelves containing leather-bound tomes, and the floor is covered by a fine red carpet. The Shadow King sits in the centre of the room in the lotus position, his head bowed. He appears to be less a person than a three-dimensional shadow, dark and foreboding. Four assassins stand in front of him, and in a corner, the Joker is chained to a wooden chair, bruised and unconscious.

"Kill him," the Shadow King says to his assassins, his voice deep and otherworldly.

The assassins draw their nunchaku and move swiftly towards Bruce. He holds up his hand and says to them, "You cannot harm me. You are not real."

The assassins vanish.

"Impressive," the Shadow King says. "You have gained enough awareness about this world to have some control over it. You are much like your friend, Kal-el the superman. But as he died by my hand, so shall you."

"I am not afraid of you," Bruce declares, wondering whether the Shadow King is capable of making good upon his threat. _No,_ he thinks to himself, _the Shadow King is no more real than his assassins._

"On the contrary, Dream Knight," the Shadow King says, "I am quite real. I am the master of this world, but am greater than it. When I came to this world, it was chaos, but I brought order to it. I will not suffer you, or anyone else, to unmake what I have made. Know that I am perfectly capable of destroying you."

Fear and doubt flash through Bruce's mind, but he focuses his thoughts and takes a step forward. "I must fulfill my destiny. Your reign of terror will be brought to an end."

"We shall see." The Shadow King rises to his feet, and his pitch-black cape billows in the windless room. He towers over Bruce, huge in stature, and the cape and horned mask give him the appearance of a great bat. Pale, white eyes with no pupils stare out of the inky darkness of his face. Yet his movements are graceful, and he assumes a ready stance, holding out his hand and beckoning Bruce to come forward.

Bruce assumes a defensive stance, wondering how he can possibly fight this monstrosity. Every iota of the Shadow King's being radiates strength and power. But he breathes deeply, remembering Kal-el's words: _He is darkness. He is a man who sought to use against evildoers their own subconscious fears – the night, the unknown, the supernatural. In doing so, he lost his own humanity to these forces, and made himself a living archetype, enslaved to the fears he sought to harness._

_If I do not fear him,_ Bruce thinks, _he has no power over me._

At that moment, the Shadow King attacks with blinding speed, swinging a massive fist at Bruce's skull. Bruce dodges, seizing the Shadow King's arm and attempting to use the momentum to throw the Shadow King to the ground. The Shadow King falls forward, contacting the floor with an open palm, and, impossibly, flips forward, lands on his feet, and spins around in a roundhouse kick. Bruce dives backwards as the kick passes millimetres from his chin. He lands with his hands and feet on the ground, facing upward, and rolls to the side as the Shadow King brings his hand downward in a powerful, open-palmed chop. There is a crashing sound as the stone beneath the carpet breaks under the force of the Shadow King's blow.

Bruce takes advantage of his adversary's momentarily open defences and dives forward, bringing his elbow down towards the back of the Shadow King's head. But the Shadow King is fast, and lunges at Bruce, knocking him off his feet and lifting him into the air. Frantically, Bruce pushes himself away from the Shadow King, landing hard on his side. He gasps for breath, and the Shadow King is upon him, seizing him by the throat and lifting him into the air.

The Shadow King laughs a deep, terrible laugh as Bruce struggles to pry open his adversary's iron grip. "Fool!" the Shadow King booms. "Did you think it was possible to defeat me?"

Fighting to remain conscious, Bruce raises his arm and brings it down hard, using the scalloped blades on his gauntlet to slash the Shadow King's arm. The blades break off into the Shadow King's arm, and he howls, dropping Bruce to the floor.

Bruce has less than a second to regain his composure as the Shadow King tears the blades from his arm, leaving a black, wispy trail where the wound was. This promptly re-coalesces into the Shadow King's arm, and he charges at Bruce, thrusting an open-palmed strike at Bruce's head. He dodges, but the Shadow King is quick with an uppercut with his other arm, which Bruce barely deflects. He jumps back as the Shadow King brings his knee towards Bruce's gut. But the Shadow King is impossibly fast, and he has landed a heavy blow across Bruce's jaw before he can react. Pain explodes in Bruce's consciousness, and he begins to fall. Desperately, he whispers, "Om. This is a dream."

Time seems to stop for a moment, with the Shadow King's fist still in mid-swing and Bruce falling to the floor. The pain is still there, but he knows it is not real and ignores it. He reaches forward and catches the Shadow King, whose movement is now so slow as to be almost imperceptible, and swings his legs in an arc, catching the Shadow King's ankles and sweeping them out from under him.

Then, time returns to its normal flow, and Bruce and the Shadow King crash to the floor. But Bruce is up first this time, and brings his fist down towards the Shadow King's face. A hard, scaly grip catches his arm, and suddenly the Shadow King is the giant reptile from Ivy's jungle. With a roar, the reptile seizes Bruce's chest, uses its tail to help rise to its feet, and hurls Bruce across the room, tearing his breastplate off in the process. Bruce sails through the air across the room and crashes into a bookcase, breaking it. He falls to the floor, and books rain down upon him.

He looks up in time to see that the Shadow King has transformed into Grandfather Freeze. He unleashes a blast of ice at Bruce, who rolls out of the way at the last instant. Dodging another blast of ice, Bruce springs towards his quiver of boomerangs, which lies spilled on the floor. He seizes one, rolls, and hurls it at the chain for the chandelier above the Shadow King's head. The chain breaks, and the chandelier drops, but the Shadow King has become the Joker's harlequin dancer and leaps forward out of the way.

Bruce takes a moment to focus his qi, and out of the corner of his eye, notices a great book that has been frozen solid. As the Shadow King advances, now in the form of the man-bat of Bruce's nightmares, he takes the tome, spins around, and hurls it like a discus. It strikes the abomination in the head, and it drops to the ground. He takes a boomerang in his hand and charges, ready to finish the Shadow King.

The Shadow King faces Bruce, and now he is Selina. Her face is bloodied and bruised, and her eyes cut through him. He stops in his tracks.

"So you are going to do it, then?" she asks him, her voice quivering. "You are going to bring an end to this world?"

"No," Bruce sputters, choked with grief. "You are not Selina. You are the Shadow King."

"Bruce, please," she sobs, "I'm begging you. Let us be together. I love you. Please."

"I must fulfill my destiny," Bruce whispers.

"Bruce, let's go somewhere. Some place where nobody will know who we are." She stares at him, her eyes filled with hurt. "Where it will just be us."

Her words cut deep into his soul, and he falls to his knees, closing his eyes to stop the tears. He knows that it is the Shadow King, but cannot bear to see the likeness of Selina saying these things to him. _I cannot do it_, he thinks. _I cannot end this dream._

"Now, Dream Knight," the Shadow King roars, suddenly behind him, "you will die!" And the Shadow King lifts Bruce off his feet and brings him down hard, shattering Bruce's spine on his knee.

The agony is overwhelming, and Bruce feels his consciousness beginning to dissolve. He closes his eyes, and amid the blinding pain, he sees the afterimage of the green eyes.

_Selina_, he thinks.

_She would not allow me to let it end this way._

_This is a dream._

_All of the pain I feel is an illusion._

_Nothing in this world can destroy me, for everything I have experienced is a manifestation of my mind._

_Om._

He feels his being beginning to dissolve into blissful nothingness, but he wills himself back into the dream. His spine is shattered, but he focuses upon it, and it regenerates. The pain disappears, and he climbs to his feet, facing the Shadow King once more.

"No," snarls the Shadow King. "No! I cannot be defeated! This is my world! _I am this world!_" And he spreads his arms, and reality seems to twist and warp. The carpet writhes, and becomes twisting red tendrils which climb up Bruce's leg and ensnare him. But he closes his eyes and lifts his feet off the ground, entering the lotus position and levitating above the floor. A halo of light surrounds him, and the twisting room returns to normal.

Bruce says to the Shadow King, "I know what you are. You are a mechanism of my consciousness, born out of fear and grief. You seek to maintain order, but you are trapped here yourself, here in this place where my parents lived. You think me a frightened child, and you protect me, imposing order upon the chaos of the world. You are the Batman."

The Shadow King backs away, silently, the edges of his being beginning to twist.

"Let go," Bruce says gently. "It is over. The dream is done."

After a long moment of silence, the Shadow King says, "I… I understand now. You have not come to undo my work at all. You have come to bring about the ultimate freedom from chaos. The freedom of non-being. I see now what must be done."

He extends his hand, and a bookshelf on the far side of the room slides to one side, revealing a long corridor made of red brick. Then he turns his gaze to the Joker, who is still unconscious and chained to a chair. The chains disappear, and the Joker awakens.

"Follow him," the Shadow King says to Bruce. "He will lead you out of the dream."

And the Shadow King dissolves into a cloud of darkness. The room begins to blur before Bruce's eyes, fading, the colours running into each other.

"Heh," laughs the Joker, facing Bruce. "So you figured it out. It's all just a hallucination caused by a new brand of Joker gas. They always said you were the world's greatest detective."

Bruce returns to his feet and follows the Joker to the corridor, which twists into the distance. "You are not of this world either."

"Heh heh. Nope. I'm just along for the ride. Wherever you go, I'll go. No matter how much you abuse me, no matter how many times you lock me up, I'll always be back for more. I'm a part of you, Brucie." The Joker licks his lips.

"And I will always overcome you," Bruce tells him.

"Maybe so," the Joker says as they enter the corridor and begin to walk. "But I still get the last laugh. There'll always be more Gothams, more Jokers, and none of them will be any more real than any other. I don't think you'll like the place we're going near as much as this one. It ain't a nice place. But that Cat Woman you met here – she's a real knockout."

"She was a manifestation of my mind," Bruce tells the Joker.

The Joker chuckles. "Sure. But deep down, I think you know she's as real as anyone you'll ever meet."

Bruce is silent, trying not to think about her. Finally, softly, he asks, "Do you think I'll remember her?"

The Joker grins. "I dunno. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. I don't know which would be worse."

They reach the end of the corridor, and there is a simple, wooden door, and the Joker continues, "That's just you, though. You're a glutton for suffering. You live on it. It's what makes you tick."

"I'm not listening to you," Bruce says, opening the door. There is a great grey cloud before him, and in the distance, there is the silhouette of a great bat. The Joker laughs as they walk through the door into the darkness beyond.

**So ends the story of the Dream Knight. Now that you're finished, let me know what you think! Drop a review if you have any comments, questions, criticisms, etc. And stay tuned – this was my first fanfic, but it may not be the last.**


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